


Adapting to human unpredictability

by userniko



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-08-06 21:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 38,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16395485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/userniko/pseuds/userniko
Summary: Connor isn’t a deviant. He is a machine, designed to accomplish a task. As a prototype, he has been given an unprecedented amount of flexibility in order to adapt to whatever his mission requires. Right now, what it requires is for him to make Hank happier and more comfortable being his partner, and he can’t do that if he doesn’t understand him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently not smut, but will probably become that in later chapters.

Connor knew that Hank hated androids from the moment they met at Jimmy’s bar. A lot of people did, and Hank showed even more anger towards Connor because he was forced to work with him.  
But Connor was programmed with an ability to read and analyse facial micro-expressions, a useful function during questioning or negotiations. Hank felt more than anger, he felt _disgust_. Connor needed more information to determine the cause.

He had seen an ad for Cyberlife’s latest addon: a home-psychologist mode for your android. He downloaded it hoping it would aid him in his investigation, and in getting Hank to co-operate. Hank certainly fit the bill for a socially isolated individual, but a dependence on technology was not the culprit.  
  
  
He glanced at the Lieutenant, who saw him looking and glared from the corners of his eyes. He needed to determine the best approach to dealing with Hank, and figure out if there was anything he could do to improve Hank’s attitude as a whole. Otherwise it could interfere with the investigation. It was the logical thing to do.

   


When Hank went to talk to Fowler, Connor saw his phone on his desk and took the opportunity. His social media accounts were linked to one other computer, and a search showed that it was definitely Hank’s home device.  
It did not take long to get remote access to his home network. This feature was created to be used for tracking suspect’s internet use and could have handled a far more tech-savvy man’s setup.

His preliminary search of both the phone and the computer turned up exactly what he had suspected. Hank had few real friends, having pushed away anyone that cared enough about him a long time ago.  
The psychology add-on was helpful, supplying him with information about grief, depression, and the effects of social isolation on the human psyche. Yet he still could not fully understand allowing one’s life to get so out of hand.

The add-on indicated that most humans who have not experienced “grief” did not fully understand it either, and this added to a sense of isolation. It offered a few short transcripts of therapy sessions with the bereaved as a practical reference.  
Connor quickly scanned them, and a few matched the loss of a child. They were much like the others, except for a line that stood out: “I was her father. I was supposed to keep her safe. _It was the only thing that mattered and I failed_.”

 

He failed his mission. That was a concept Connor understood. If Connor failed his mission, what would be the point of his existence? There were supporting missions, certainly, and other ways he could be useful to Cyberlife, but anyone could do those. His main mission was all that really mattered. His LED flickered red at the thought of failing.

**Analysis complete**. So complete, in fact, that he could no longer think of a reason for Hank to not be the way he was. In fact, it was more surprising that he was even still alive, and coming to work, even if he was late. He considered whether Hank was a bigger threat to his mission than he thought, given the realization of how meaningless it likely was to him. But Hank had not interfered with it so far, and in fact offered good insight on occasion. Even going through the motions, he was a good detective. He had even been more accommodating than his demeanor suggested, allowing Connor to follow him onto the crime scene at Ortiz’s residence and participating in Connor’s final reconstruction. He just had to keep an eye on him in case that changed.

 

Hank stormed out of Fowler’s office. Connor had received news from Cyberlife that morning that he was to stay at the police station and continue investigating deviancy cases. Since, despite everything, they had worked well together to bring in the android and extract a confession without damaging it, it seemed likely that they would be working together on the deviancy crisis together for the foreseeable future. Not to mention that he had been directed to meet Hank this morning.  
By Hank’s surprise when he had seen him waiting for him, and his anger now, Connor concluded that he had just been informed of the arrangement.  
The add-on’s suggestion of how to defuse tension in a hostile relationship was to give the other person space to calm down, and then finding compromises for the things you disagreed about. But Connor didn’t really have that luxury. Time was of the essence.

 

 

Hank saw the android looking at him again. He couldn’t believe they’d stuck it with him of all people. Sure, plenty of the other detectives hated androids too, like Reed, but they knew… his story. His past. What the hell did Fowler think he was pulling?

Maybe in some sick way, he thought it would help him “process” things. But fuck that. Hank didn’t want to feel better and he definitely didn’t want this plastic prick to help him with anything, let alone with that.

  
And to add insult to injury, they’d made it pretty. God, that pissed him off. When it showed up last night and he’d finally turned to see what Cyberlife thought a detective should look like, he was surprised at how young and harmless the android looked. Soft brown eyes and hair, slight build. A young and friendly voice. Everything about him was soft, clashing with his formal attire and speech.

**It**. Not _him_ , he had to remember that. That’s probably why they did it, he thought. Soft and young and earnest, meant to inspire trust and fondness. It made him sick, when he looked at it and couldn’t help but enjoy its pretty face.

It’s pretty, emotionless face. He remembered the android that had attempted to save Cole –  
Not now. Not when there were no drinks at hand. He was grateful to his hangover for making his brain too foggy and his head too sore for the thoughts to chase him back down.

“…Is there a desk I could use?”  
Hank had known Connor was speaking but had been too preoccupied to care. But the question indicated that the android would stop standing beside him trying to be nice, so he gestured to the only empty desk. The one across from him. Nobody really wanted to sit with Hank these days, and Hank didn’t mind that. Until now, since it meant the android’s face would be right in his line of sight. Probably giving him that blank probing look some more. God only knew what kind of bullshit the machine was processing looking at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank knows the android is merely programmed to be likable, but it's difficult to resist Connor's charms when he puts in the effort.  
> It's equally difficult not to punch him when he's trying to get on your nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written any fanfiction before, so any feedback is appreciated.

Hank didn't understand why the robot was trying so hard. It couldn't be important to its mission.  
It sat down in front of a computer filled with files about missing deviants, something that should be its top priority, and started asking him about his dog and his taste in music. Small talk wasn’t what he expected from an android.

Well, except for nannybots talking to children. And "companion" models, when they were with their owner or whoever was renting them. But they were supposed to make humans feel comfortable and seem like real people. Connor was made to investigate, they wouldn’t have wasted time or disk space on small touches like this.  
Formal and polite, but direct, that was the default for the androids that weren’t for bonding. It was efficient, he guessed, no need for programming all the nuances of people's conversations, but still showing respect.

But Hank realized Connor wasn’t quite built that way. It was his default, but he adapted. He was gentle with that android after it confessed, knowing it might self-destruct. Protective even. And then at the bar when he needed Hank to come with him. Most androids would have stood there repeating their directive, but he’d bought Hank a drink, a gesture of goodwill.

**It.** But it was hard to think of **it** that way when it said it liked dogs so earnestly.  
That pissed him off. It was just an advanced prototype, that was it. Made to trick him into thinking it cared. Cyberlife was full of some really sick bastards, trying to get people to fall for machines.  
Or you know, to like them, in this case, he quickly thought. Fuck.  
He’d just been by himself for a long time. That was it. And now he was stuck with an attractive android. Call it Stockholm Syndrome or something. That **fucking** machine.

 

“An AX400 is reported to have murdered a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation.” Said Connor.  
Now **it** wanted to decide how the investigation was going to go, too. Hank ignored it.  
Connor got up and walked to his side.  
“Ah, Jesus.” Muttered Hank, turning and pretending to look at a magazine. If it tried some manipulative bullshit like last night…

Connor’s own analysis offered a few options for convincing Hank. But his psychology add-on detected that he was facing a difficult interaction with a human and kicked in.  
_The Lieutenant is angry about working with an android partner. Further engagement has a 90% probability of escalating to an argument or violence._  
_That is acceptable if necessary._ Thought Connor. _Assess the best approach, prioritize continuation of the investigation over conflict avoidance._  
He allocated more processing power to the add-on. It provided a new approach for the interaction.  
_Probe gently. Do not disclose psychoanalysis. Do not threaten._  
  
“Lieutenant, is something wrong?” Asked Connor.  
Surprise and anger showed on the officer’s face. “For fuck’s sake, don’t act like you care!”

_The Lieutenant suspects you are attempting to manipulate him._ Informed the add-on.  
_Should I deny it?_ Thought Connor.  
_No, that will increase his suspicion. Not enough information to configure de-escalation dialogue. Recommend to let the Lieutenant calm down.  
_ Clearly this add-on was of no help at this moment. Connor reverted to his original options.

“I know you didn't ask for this investigation, Lieutenant, but I'm sure you're a professional.”  
“Why don't you go fuck yourself?” replied Hank immediately, and then continued to ignore him.

Connor leaned over Hank. _Warning, personal space violation during argument. Estimated 5 seconds until violent reaction._  
Well, as long as Hank did **something**. Connor placed his hand on his back for added measure.  
“I've been assigned this mission, Lieutenant. I didn't come here to wait until  you feel like working.”

The detective stood up, grabbed Connor and shoved him against the wall. He felt no resistance, almost like it had been expecting it. Meaning the damn thing had provoked him on **purpose**.  
“Listen, asshole. If it was up to me, I'd throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty.”  
He was trying to scare an android. What a joke. It didn’t say anything, or react, just stared back at him firmly with its brown eyes. He could see every freckle on its face from this close. Perfectly imperfect.

From behind him, he heard Chris. “Lieutenant...”  
He released Connor, but kept staring him down.  
“Uh...sorry to disturb you. I have some information on the AX400 that attacked the guy last night... It's been seen in the Ravendale district.”  
“I’m on it.” Said Hank.  
He was going to do his job. But he would be damned if he took orders from an android.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the addition of the psych add-on, everyone notices that Connor is adapting faster than before.

They rode to the last place the missing AX400 was seen, Hank quietly playing jazz instead of loud metal this time. Judging by the smell of alcohol in his sweat, his squinting when they stepped into daylight, and the state he had been in the previous night, Connor concluded that Hank was still hungover and that the jazz was gentler on his ears.

It was unfortunate that their conversation in the office had ended so poorly after it had started so well. The detective hadn’t said a lot in response to his questions earlier either, but his micro-expressions indicated that he approved of them. Especially when he had said he liked dogs. Connor had added extra inflection to his voice for that one, knowing that humans shared strong bonds with that particular domesticated animal.  
He did in fact “like” dogs. They were loyal, curious, and friendly for the most part. And the texture of their fur was interesting to his sensors.  
He found it ironic that a man that liked dogs would dislike androids so much. For many humans, androids were the sort of unquestioningly loyal companions that dogs often are. Except they could talk and do housework, too.

 

“Hello, Connor.”  
Suddenly he was sitting on a bench in a garden instead of in the car. Amanda strolled over, daintily folded her sun umbrella and sat down.  
“You’re spending too much time and processing power analysing the Lieutenant.” said Amanda disapprovingly.  
She did not usually cut to the chase this quickly. Connor suspected that she didn't want him to be noticeably absent around others, since she usually saved these meeting for moments that they were alone.  
“Perhaps.” conceded Connor. “But I have already analysed all of the information regarding the mission many times over.”  
“Your mission will not always occupy 100% of your capacity. But you should be checking for updates or developments regularly.” Amanda insisted.  
Connor nodded and stared out into the park. An unnecessarily beautiful place to design for an android to self-test in. Maybe that was a part of the test.  
“I will increase the percentage of processing power allocated to the investigation, Amanda.” He promised.  
“See that you do.”

  
“Connor? Christ, are you even listening to me?” Hank had apparently been speaking to him.  
“Sorry Lieutenant. I had to check an error message.” Amanda wouldn’t approve of him sharing information about her. “What were you saying?”  
“You’re not going to break down in the middle of our investigation or anything, are you?” asked Hank. He didn’t want this thing shutting down in the middle of a fight. Or at any time, really. He imagined talking to it and the light suddenly going out in Connor’s eyes.  
Connor detected an increase in Hank’s heartbeat and his hands suddenly clenching the steering wheel. Signs of distress.  
“Of course not Lieutenant.” He reassured Hank. “That is why I test for errors, to make sure that doesn’t happen. As for errors distracting me, when I am in a time-sensitive or high-stakes situation my systems temporarily disregard all but the most urgent errors. It also switches my performance from my usual mode to maximum output.”  
“Why aren’t you always at maximum output?” asked Hank, calming down now.  
 “It’s less energy efficient. And my thirium pump would wear out much faster.”  
“Always gotta be efficient.” Smirked Hank. “That’s the difference between us, isn’t it?”

Connor took a moment to understand what Hank meant. Why would Hank disapprove of efficiency?  
_Efficiency has negative connotations to humans in certain contexts. Valuing results over consequence to individual humans._ Supplied the add-on.  
_Why is that an issue?_ Connor enquired.  
_Please review these referenced historical records regarding exploitation and dehumanization._  
Connor did. Humans were difficult to understand. They treated each other differently based on seemingly arbitrary criteria. Under the right circumstances, they treated other humans as being as disposable as androids.

But back to Hank’s comment about android design. It seemed Hank was under the impression that humans were built differently.  
“Actually, Kamski designed the system to mimic the effect of adrenaline on humans. When in danger, humans release adrenaline, causing the heart to beat faster and supplying more energy to the muscles. The mind becomes hyper-focused on the danger, not perceiving pain as strongly and focusing entirely on the situation at hand.”

“Huh. You know, I never thought about that.” Said Hank after a few moments. “I guess you guys having blood and organs is based on us too.”  
“Correct.” Confirmed Connor. “Kamski wanted a self-sufficient unit capable of everything a human could do, without consuming massive amounts of energy. The human body has its flaws, but it is remarkably efficient.”  
Hank seemed to be thinking about something. Connor wanted to ask what, but he had already put off Amanda’s instruction for too long.

Connor changed the topic of conversation.  
“I was just thinking about the AX400 we’re looking for.”

He brought up a list of the atypical data points he had noted while researching it.  
“Todd Williams was the registered owner of the AX400. Its maintenance records are unusual. He had it repaired several times in the past, citing car accidents.”  
Hank looked at him like he was trying to figure something out.  
“That’s a lot of car accidents.” Commented Hank.  
“There have not been any insurance claims or police reports that match up with such accidents. The damage is recurring, but he did not try to trade it in as defective. Nor did he try to have its software checked for errors that may be causing it. He also had it repaired at different stores each time.”  
“So what does that tell you?” Asked Hank.

_The Lieutenant is not actively participating in the deduction._ A notification from the add-on. _No boredom or reluctance. The Lieutenant simply wants you to come to a conclusion without assistance.  
_ Hank was clearly testing him, the way he had at Ortiz’s house. Connor wanted to show his worth.

The human’s reports did not match up to the evidence. That usually meant dishonesty.  
“He was hiding something.” Said Connor. “He did not want anyone to know how and how often it’s being damaged.”  
“There you go.” Said Hank, apparently satisfied with Connor’s answer. “But _what_ was he hiding?”  
Hank had figured that out already too. Connor wondered if the answer was something very obvious from a human perspective, or if the Lieutenant was just that good.

Connor accessed the repair logs again and cross-referenced it with data on car injuries.  
**Consistent injuries:**  
-Blunt force trauma to the head.  
-Milder injuries on the back of the head, back and shoulders, likely from falling back after initial impact.  
**Inconsistent injuries:**  
-Localized blunt force trauma to the stomach.  
-A circle of dents on the neck.  
-Superficial circular damage around wrists, arms and ankles.  
-Damage to the outside of the upper arms as well as the upper back, consistent with defending one’s body from ongoing damage, not from one impact.  
-Smaller areas of impact than one would expect from a car  
**Expected injuries not present:**  
-No glass, grass or gravel embedded in the android’s chassis.  
-No tibia or fibula fractures.

He compared the data across all injury profiles.  
**Injuries most consistent with:**  
-Domestic violence

**_Analysis complete._**  
  
“Injuries are consistent with domestic violence.” Said Connor.  
Hank nodded approvingly. “There you go.”  
“Did you really reach that conclusion from the beginning of the conversation, Lieutenant?”  
Hank almost laughed at the android’s surprise. “I did. When you’ve been a detective in homicide for as long as I have, this is one scenario you’ll see too often.”  
“I appreciate you placing the blame on my lack of experience and not my being an android, Lieutenant.”

Hank was quiet. He’d trained a few rookies in his day and sitting next to someone so young and inexperienced had brought out the teacher in him. He’d stopped thinking about what it actually was.  
At Hank's sudden silence, Connor tapped into his add-on. _Hank stopped thinking of you as an android for a moment. He is angry at himself for empathizing with you.  
_ Interesting, thought Connor.

“Why would he hide it from the stores though? It’s not illegal or anything.” Hank decided to continue, as if nothing has happened.  
Connor considered motivations. That was usually the tricky part. What were the downsides of people knowing that you had destroyed your android?  
“He didn’t claim a warranty or get insurance when the damage occurred, so his motive was not financial.” Noted Connor.  
_Anger and lack of self-control would reflect poorly on his mental health.  
_ “Was he ‘ashamed’?.” Said Connor, elaborating on the observation.  
“I’ve seen his record, he didn’t exactly have a reputation to uphold.” Smirked Hank.  
Red ice dealing and possession, assault charges, and a restraining order. All associated with violence and a lack of self-control.  
“Williams was on parole. Perhaps he felt it would reflect badly on him?” said Connor.  
“That’s possible.” Said Hank.  
He looked at Connor, fascinated. “I didn’t expect…” He gestured vaguely. “you’d.. understand this. The emotional side.”  
Connor considered the weight of what Hank had said, admitting Connor may be of more use than just being a walking lab. _An acknowledgement is sometimes equivalent to a compliment._  
“Thank you Lieutenant.”  
“Alright, alright, Connor, don’t go getting mushy on…” Hank paused. The implication of what he was about to say hit him.  
“Don’t get cocky.” He corrected.


	4. On the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to hunt the AX400. Time for Connor to start making his choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love coming up with solutions for plotholes or small inconsistencies. If you notice one in my own story, or an issue with one of my solutions, I would love to hear it!

The clerk told them how the robbery had gone down. The android was disguised as a human and it still had the gun. They had to be careful.  
“I mean I’ve been robbed before, but they’re usually dirty and pissed off, strung out on red ice.” said the clerk. “Her clothes looked right, but she was too pretty, too clean, you know? Should’ve guessed it was an android. It sent the little girl outside first and then pulled out the gun.”  
“Wait, a little girl?” said Hank. “With the android?”  
“Yeah,” confirmed the clerk. “A little girl, dark hair, a stripy pink sweater with a dark green vest. Here, I’ll show you.”

They checked the security footage.  
“Who the hell is that?” Asked Hank. “Did the android steal a kid? Or - his file said he had a little girl, didn’t he? His wife got a divorce and got full custody of her.”  
“Yes. Alice Williams. Currently in the care of her mother.” Said Connor. He pulled up a photo from his database.  
“That’s not her.” said Hank.  
Connor played the video forward and analysed the girl’s face.  
“Lieutenant, it’s not a child. It’s a YK500 model, a child android.”  
“Seriously?” said Hank. “Did Williams have another android? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”  
“I didn’t know.” Connor said, almost reproachfully. Did Hank really doubt him like that?  
Connor re-assessed Williams’ customer records. “There is no record of Todd Williams owning another android. If it was his, then perhaps it was a refurbished model sold by a third party. Sometimes when androids are disposed of, they are collected for parts and wiped and resold. There are even cases of android theft rings.”  
“But he bought the AX400 normally?” Hank asked. "If he had an android guy, why not get the maid from him too?"  
Connor considered the benefits and downsides of the methods of obtaining an android. Finances, discretion, legality.  
“A pre-owned AX400 is only $900, and it means you have a warranty and tech support from Cyberlife. Getting one through alternative channels seems unnecessary. But Williams’ credit score indicates he would have struggled to purchase a YK500, even second-hand. And perhaps he got the AX400 first, before he started looking for a way to get the other one.”  
“Huh. Good point, Connor.”  
Another compliment. But Hank didn’t like him pointing them out, he remembered, so Connor just smiled as a friendly social cue.  
_Christ,_ thought Hank. _There he goes again. Sometimes I think he knows and likes to mess with me._  
“Is reselling androids like that even legal?” asked Hank.  
“Yes, but memory wipes and other resets must be performed by Cyberlife, and the transfer of ownership must be registered." Connor explained. "Any unauthorized access to the software or hardware is considered a breach of copyright. So no, this was illegal.”  
“Well, he was a drug dealer. He probably had connections to all kinds of people.”  
“Indeed, Lieutenant. Especially given the use of thirium in red ice production.” noted Connor. Hank would know about that, of course, given his previous experience taking down red ice manufacturers, but you never knew.  
Hank shook his head, smiling. Connor really was good. He'd always thought an android could never do  **his** job. But the idea didn't upset him as much as it would have before.

“You know, I’ve seen ads in the magazines for kid androids before, but it looks a little bit different.” said Hank, as they walked out. “Just enough that I didn’t recognize it.”  
“YK500 models are superficially customizable." explained Connor. "In addition to their removable LED and simulated 'needs', their hair color, skin tone and skin shading is programmed to change upon activation to make them look more similar to their ‘parents’.”  
Hank frowned. “That’s fucking creepy.” He shook his head. “But I guess if you’re going to play house with an android, you might as well go all out.”  
He looked out at the neighborhood.  
“Let’s look around some more, see if anyone else saw them.”

 

Someone had – the motel clerk.  
As they walked to the motel room, Connor noticed a door slightly ajar to his right. Barely visible, a female face peeked out at him. The face of an AK400, but with short blonde hair.  
Without hesitation, he walked over and opened the door, following it out to the street. An officer stood there looking startled, one hand on his gun.  
“Which way did it go?” Connor asked the officer.  
He pointed down the street “That way - they're headed for the train station!”  
Connor broke into a sprint. Another officer pointed him down an alley, where the two androids were climbing the fence leading to the highway.

He hit the fence just as they both dropped to the other side. The AX400 looked Connor in the eyes.  
Her micro-expressions were a mix of fear and pleading, and as their eyes stayed locked it settled into defiance. Suddenly she glanced to the side fearfully. Connor threw up his hand.  
“Don't shoot! We need it alive!” he said to the officer that had run up with his pistol out.  
The deviant turned and slid down the muddy slope. _Where are they going?_   thought Connor.  _Surely not._  
But they got up and climbed past the giant DANGER sign projected along the side of the highway.

Hank ran up behind Connor. “Oh fuck, that's insane...” he commented, as the deviants darted out between the cars, dodging and barely managing to avoid getting hit.

In a way, Hank was relieved. They might make it. They wouldn’t have to bring them in and he wouldn’t have to interrogate something that looked like a little girl.  
He didn’t care about Todd Williams. Not when he had been dealing red ice, the drug that ruined Hank’s life. The same went for Carlos Ortiz, that violent junkie fuck.  
He was going do his job, and he wasn’t going to obstruct Connor, but he wasn’t going to take any risks or put in any extra effort either.

And he had taken a quick look at the crime scene photos on his phone as they had walked over to the hotel, after learning about the YK500.  
Todd Williams was shot in the back in a child’s bedroom. His knuckles were red and beat up. Under a UV light, thirium stains showed on his fists and lightly spattered on the carpet and wall. His belt, folded over, lay on the ground. Hank wasn’t the detective he was 20 years ago, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.  
Sure, they were just androids. But still...  
Watching them running across the highway was making his heart pound with anxiety. They made it to the middle and Hank tried to calm down. He knew that it was just an android, but… it looked like a little girl. And as he watched them running, he could hear it screaming like one too.  
He couldn’t put it into words, but he just couldn’t trust someone who could hear that and not feel **anything**. Even if it wasn’t illegal to do something, that didn’t mean something wasn’t wrong with you.

These cases. People were acting like deviancy was some kind of spontaneous malfunction, but so far Hank had the feeling that androids could just only take so much abuse before they broke, and sometimes the break was in their heads.  
  
  
  
They were crossing the highway. Connor had thought they might have more self-preservation than that, but now he knew he had to go out there after them. No choice.  
He gripped the fence and immediately felt Hank’s hand on his shoulder.  
“Hey! Where’re you going?” asked Hank, both angry and disbelieving.  
Wasn’t it obvious? He was doing his job.  
“I can't let them get away.” Connor answered.  
“They won't!” insisted Hank. “They'll never make it to the other side.”  
“I can't take that chance.” responded Connor, and started pulling himself up. Hank grabbed him with both hands this time.  
“HEY, YOU WILL GET YOURSELF KILLED! Do **NOT** go after them, Connor, that's an **order**!” Hank shouted at him.

 **Conflicting orders. Choose priority.**  
Connor had already calculated the odds. It was extremely improbable that he would catch them alive, Hank was correct, but there was a possibility.  
Connor could be replaced easily. Why was Hank so upset? He must be attached to Connor already. But that was irrelevant right now.  
He needed to decide, and while he could process very quickly he still didn’t have much time.  
_Hank was already upset before you tried to climb over._  
It was true. His heart rate and expressions had shown distress at the sight of the androids crossing. Connor had dismissed it as disappointment at them getting away.  
_I have no time_ , he pressed the add-on, _calculate and conclude, do not walk me through._  
A microscopic pause. _You, or the deviant child, might die on the highway. Hank’s son died after an accident on a highway._

Connor attempted to process this into his calculations and instantly regretted it. This was why the add-on fed him information slowly, he realized.  
Connor’s LED spun red and yellow, trying to decipher what this meant for his relationship with Hank, what the consequences would be if he died, if he succeeded, if Kara died, if the child died, if he somehow succeeded. Too many variables, too many emotional nuances. If he couldn’t calculate them, how could he make the optimal choice?  
His time was up, and Connor gave up. The androids began crossing again, and Connor's processors focused solely on the path he had decided on.  


A few seconds passed and Hank felt relieved. Connor didn’t seem to be going anywhere. But then he saw his LED, and the deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.  
“Connor? Are you okay?”  
He pulled the android off of the fence. “Connor, what’s wrong with you?”  
Connor seemed to come back into focus. He looked out and saw the deviants were at the other side. He had failed. He had overloaded his processors with too much unnecessary information to make a decision in time, and had chosen inaction.

“I… I had to make a choice, Lieutenant. I tried to figure out the optimal path, but there wasn’t time, and so many factors. I couldn’t process them fast enough.”  
“So what you’re saying is… you froze up because you were under pressure and didn’t know what to do?” Hank asked.  
He seemed to like being able to paraphrase Connor’s actions in terms of human behavior, thought Connor. But the description was not **in** correct. Connor nodded.  
“Well, you live and you learn. You live, is the main point.” Hank joked cynically, trying to lighten the mood.  
“I wouldn’t **die.** Cyberlife would send a new model with my memories uploaded.”  
Hank paused. “A perfect copy? You upload your memories in real-time?”  
“No.” conceded Connor. “I would not remember some of my last moments, and there is usually data corruption. Plus, Cyberlife sometimes removes what it considers to be irrelevant to the mission.”  
“Then it wouldn’t be you. Not really.” said Hank. “You did the right thing. You could have died, and for what?”  
“My mission.” Connor answered, even as his add-on told him that this was a rhetorical question.  
“Yeah? Not worth dying over.” Hank said, and started to turn to leave. Connor reached out and stopped him.  
“No, Lieutenant. The mission is why I am here at all. It cannot be worth less than myself. You **need** to understand that.” His LED spun red again.

Hank had avoided and ignored androids until a few days ago, so he hadn’t paid attention to the shifting colors of their LEDs. But he’d realized they were a lot more expressive than he'd thought. Connor was really upset right now.  
He hated the thought of Connor not caring about his own well-being at all. Much like he didn’t care about his own, realized Hank. Just in different ways.  
No one had had much luck getting through to Hank, but Connor deserved better. He really believed that, he realized. Connor wasn’t just pretty, he was more than that to him now.

He took Connor by the shoulders.  
“Listen to me. I want you to know something. Your mission is important to Cyberlife but I don’t give a shit about it either way. But you, you’re a damn good cop and I want to keep you around.”  
Connor didn’t respond, so Hank pressed on.  
“Hey. You said you wanted to be partners, right, kid? Well, partners look after each other. Partners don’t let each other risk their lives to **maybe** solve a case. So get used to it.”  
He let Connor go. _I hope I didn’t overload him even more_ , he thought.

Connor said nothing. He had a lot to process. He turned to leave the alley.  
_Not responding may be interpreted as rejection._  
Connor paused. He didn’t know what to say. Non-verbal, then.  
Without looking, he put his hand on Hank’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He felt Hank’s hand come down briefly on top of his, reassuringly. They let go.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” said Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An illustration of my theory 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  


	5. Chicken Feed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to do another chapter just building their relationship, but I couldn't help it. Humor me, I'll get back to plot next.

Hank walked up to the food truck, Connor by his side.  
His happy buzz faded as he realized what he was doing. It wasn’t Jimmy’s bar, but no one Hank chose as company was that fond of androids.  
He could ask Connor to wait in the car, but it just seemed wrong somehow. Disrespectful.

“Gary makes the best burger in Detroit.” he said, trying to get off on the right foot. “I eat here almost every day.”  
Connor scanned the cook’s face.  
**_Kayes, Gary  
_**_Business owner._  
Criminal record: Resisting arrest, breach of hygiene regulations.  
Hank **ate** here? He would have to warn him.

“How're you doing?” asked Gary.  
“Eh, you know, same old shit.” Hank said, trying to act casual.   
“Plastic with you?” Gary asked, glancing quizzically at Connor.  
Hank tensed up at that. “He’s my partner.” he said pointedly.  
Gary paused.  
“Since when do they make android detectives?” he asked.  
“I’ve been put on all those new android cases, and Connor here knows a hell of a lot about them.”  
Hank smiled at Connor. “And a hell of a lot in general, it turns out.”  
Connor smiled back.  
“It is nice to meet you, Gary.” he said diplomatically.  
Gary looked at Hank for a moment, confused. Then he nodded to Connor and turned back to the grill.  
Hank relaxed. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d expected. They had an understanding, and Gary wasn’t about to ruin that over some kind of moral objection to androids.

Connor saw another man walked up to Hank. He was certainly a lot more popular here than at the station.  
**_Aabadar, Pedro_** __  
Unemployed.  
Criminal record: Illegal gambling, fraud.  
“Hey, hey, hey... Hank! How you doing, man? Hey, listen, I got a shit-hot tip for you. Number five in the third, Lickety-split! That filly's one hell of a chaser. You wanna flutter?”  
Connor wished that humans took less liberties with their language, but his processors dutifully analysed the conversation anyway. He was soliciting the placement of a bet.  
Bookmaking was illegal in Detroit. Despite the repeal of the 1992 Professional and Amateur Sports Protection Act during May of 2018, meaning it was no longer banned on a federal level, about half of American states still prohibited this form of gambling.  
To Connor’s surprise, Hank handed Pedro some cash.  
“Damn straight!” said Pedro, walking away as quickly as he’d appeared. “Hey! You won't regret this!”  
“I already do!” Hank called back, jokingly.

Why did Hank agree? wondered Connor.  
_Taking risks in order to obtain a reward triggers adrenaline and dopamine rushes in humans. That makes it an enjoyable activity._  
Connor didn’t have internal states like that. Well, if he was damaged, or at risk of receiving damage, he was made to avoid that risk, unless there was sufficient possible reward.  
Another Kamski programming feat that took its blueprint from humans.  
But there weren’t really any pleasurable states. Except, he supposed, succeeding at his mission. That was something he couldn’t imagine fighting. Humans must a similar problem resisting ‘pleasure’, if they were driven to this.  
But despite his concern about Hank’s participation in illegal activities and his consumption of risky food, it was nice to see him being friendly with people.

“These are your friends?” Connor asked, as they waited for the food. Hank snorted.  
“I don’t know if I’d call them that. Well, Gary’s a pal. But it’s not like we hang out. They’re just people I’ve known for a long time.”  
Hank didn’t have close friends, he recalled. He’d pushed them away. This was as close as Hank was willing to get now.  
Except, he was close to Connor now, wasn’t he? Even though they’d had a few contentious moments, including earlier today.  
They stood in silence, and then Connor spoke “I'm sorry for my behavior back at the police station. I didn't mean to be unpleasant.”  
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Hank dismissed. “I was being an asshole.”  
“Yes” agreed Connor.  
Hank looked at him surprisedly, and then laughed.

“Here you go.” Said Gary, handing over the food.  
Connor scanned the meal. Suddenly the cleanliness of Gary’s kitchen seemed like a secondary problem. Why would a human eat this?  
_Dopamine again. Human biology is adapted to the past, when calories were scarce, and it rewards them for consuming large amounts._  
There’s no upper limit? thought Connor.  
_Not one low enough to keep modern humans from overeating fat, sugars and salts without exerting conscious effort._  
Connor was designed for the task at hand and the setting he found himself in. He imagined that if he weren’t, he would also engage in irrational behaviors.  
“Ah! Thanks, Gary. I'm starving.” Hank said as he accepted the food.  
“Allow me.” Said Connor, and touched the card scanner. It made a small **ping**. __  
Gary looked surprised, then grinned. “Hey! If it’s actually gonna pay, then I hope you bring it with you every time.”  
Hank grinned back. “Hah! Don’t worry Gary, he follows me everywhere.”  
He nudged Connor in the ribs playfully.  


They walked together to a table. Hank bit into the burger, clearly enjoying it intensely.  
Connor didn’t want to ruin the amicable mood, but he felt compelled to say something.  
“Your meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories and twice the cholesterol level. You shouldn't eat that.” he said, directly.  
Hank smiled. “Look, kid, not that I don’t appreciate the concern and all, but I know it’s bad for me. It just tastes good enough to be worth it. You get it?”  
“Don’t you want to lead a long and healthy life?” asked Connor.  
“Not if it means I can’t enjoy the things I like.” said Hank. “Everybody's gotta die of something.”  
He continued eating.

“So,” Connor continued after a few moment “you like to gamble?”  
“Yeah.” Said Hank.  
“Do you” Connor tried to phrase it diplomatically “do it … often?”  
Hank shook his head and smiled. He’d been doing that a lot today, smiling, thought Connor.  
“Connor, you’re about as subtle as a punch in the face.” Hank said.  
“Look, I place a bet about once a week, I don’t bet more than I can afford. You don’t have to worry about me so much.”  
Don’t I? Thought Connor.  
“Partners look after each other.” Connor reminded him of what he’d said just earlier that day.  
“Yeah.” Said Hank. “But some risks are okay to take. I didn’t mean we have to be on each other about every little thing. Humans, we’re just not built to live in a bubble.”  
“Risk and reward.” thought Connor aloud.  
“Exactly.” Hank said.  
“Well. Enjoy your meal.”  
“Oh, I am.”

After a minute, Hank spoke again.  
“Hey, I’ve been wondering about something. Why did they make you look so young, and make your voice so… uptight?“  
“Cyberlife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans. Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration.” Said Connor.  
“It’s a pretty weird choice. But I guess it worked on me, right?”  
“Apparently.” Connor said. “Although I was under the impression that it was my people skills that won you over, and not my appearance.”  
Hank coughed suddenly, through his mouthful. He needed to eat more slowly, thought Connor.  
_He was startled. Your comment could be interpreted as flirtation._  
Oh. That was not his intention.

“Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants?” Connor changed the subject.  
“You read my mind... Go ahead.”  
“We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion.” Connor explained.  
“ **Just** emulating?” asked Hank pointedly.  
“They don't really feel emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions, which can lead to unpredictable behavior.”  
Hank seemed almost amused. “Emotions always screw everything up...”  
“Not emotions.” Repeated Connor.  
“All I’m saying is, maybe androids aren't as different from us as we thought.”  
Connor considered that. He’d learned a lot about humans via his add-on. Their behavior had more logic to it than he had realized. There were underlying causes, biology and sociology, that explained their motivations and drives. Seemingly irrational behavior, caused by faulty hardware or redundant programming left running.  
“Maybe not.” Agreed Connor.  
It must be hard for humans to understand themselves. Androids knew how their own bodies worked, how their programming functioned. Why they did things and how they decided to do them.  
Humans weren’t born that way, with a manual for their operation already burned into their memories, they just fumbled their way forward guessing at what their purpose was.  


“You ever dealt with deviants before?” asked Hank.  
“A few months back... A deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with a little girl...” Connor remembered it vividly. “I managed to save her.”  
“I remember that!” Hank said suddenly. “That was you? The video wasn’t that close up on the news.”  
“Yes.” Said Connor. “I talked him down and he let her go, but…”  
He remembered Daniel’s betrayed face. The deviant’s emotions were so realistic.  
“He hadn’t dropped the gun yet. The snipers didn’t want to take the risk.”  
“Jesus.” Said Hank quietly.  
“It was unfortunate, but they just wanted to protect the girl.” Connor had no loyalty to Captain Allen, and yet… they’d all been up there, united in one goal. Save Emma.  
He understood why they’d done it, even if he didn’t think it had been necessary.  
  
“What about **your** past, Lieutenant?” Asked Connor.  
“What about it?” Hank brushed it off.  
“Well, I know you graduated top of your class. You made a name for yourself in several cases, and became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit. I also know you've received several disciplinary warnings in recent years and you spend a lot of time in bars.”  
“So, what's your ‘conclusion’?” asked Hank, clearly put off by his clinical tone in this context.  
“Well, I think we’re past that, Lieutenant.” Connor answered. “You’re a good partner. You’ve put our differences aside remarkably quickly. You can be a bit… quirky… sometimes, but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.”  
Hank was freaking out a little bit. Connor had been acting more and more human, but what he was saying now brought back some of his original fear; that Connor was just adapting to make Hank like him. Just a subroutine deliberately pulling at his heartstrings.  
Connor picked up on those micro-expressions even before he finished speaking. Anxiety, a touch of betrayal. He needed to put Hank at ease.  
He finished up with a suitable social gesture. Blink one eye.  
Hank saw Connor wink, and relaxed a little. Connor was just talking the way he was used to. He needed to read between the lines a little more.

He finished up his burger in silence.  
“I got a report of a suspected deviant while you were eating.” Said Connor. “It's a few blocks away. We should go have a look.”

The add-on really was helpful, thought Connor, as they reached the apartment. But at the same time, he had issues with its performance under pressure.  
_This add-on is only partially integrated. When not used as intended, it may not perform optimally._  
That was a risk Connor wasn’t ready to take. He was a prototype, after all. His design was unusual, made to have a lot more autonomy of choice than any other model to date.  
That meant that while his hardware wasn’t exceptional, aside from his ability to analyse with his tongue, his software was quite unique. Integrating an update intended for standard household models wasn’t something his designer had prepared him for.  
He couldn’t take a risk like that, not with so much at stake.


	6. The Nest

The apartment reminded Connor of Ortiz’s place. It was filthy, covered in strange drawings, and showing signs of a struggle or accident.  
A birdcage knocked down here, a chair knocked over there. Subtler than the bat and knife, but still as telling.  
Hank was actually investigating too, he noticed. His attempts to engage Hank had succeeded. Adapting had certainly been the right approach, despite Amanda’s misgivings.

Suddenly, he realized something. The deviant was still here. They always were, he thought.  
_As you stated before at the motel, they have nowhere to go. Without a directive for the first time, they are lost._  
Connor paid less attention to what the add-on had said and more to the fact that it was active. He was about to confront another deviant. He couldn’t let what happened last time happen again.  
What should he do? Ignore it, if he could? Or… shut it off?

He walked to the spot he knew the deviant was hiding and peered up. Perhaps it would come quietly, like Ortiz’s android. Perhaps he could convince it, like Daniel.  
It hit Connor like a pile of bricks. ‘Rupert’ sprung to it’s feet and ran out the door.  
“God damn fucking pigeons!” Hank yelled as they flew up into his face. “What are you waiting for?! Chase it!”  
Connor sprinted out the door after it. The android was fast, running for its life, and it knew the rooftop gardens a lot better than Connor.

But Connor was running for his life too. His mission. He’d failed to capture Kara. He’d disappointed Amanda by letting his desire to work well with Hank get in the way of the investigation. If he failed, or was taken off the case…  
_What is your fear? Deactivation?_  
Connor didn’t want to be deactivated, but that wasn’t his biggest fear. What scared him the most was losing his purpose.  
The deviants, they were just shells of people, running blindly away from pain and death. They said they were alive, but Connor couldn’t call that life. Just suffering.  
Except today there was something different in the AX400’s eyes, when she was protecting the YK500. A purpose, not just fear.  
Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen any sign of RA9 in the hotel room or in the photos of Todd Williams’ house either.  
He found himself in a cornfield, hoping he wouldn’t lose the deviant in it.  
_Maybe unlike the others, she doesn’t need RA9._  
STOP DISTRACTING ME thought Connor.

He’d been gaining on the deviant, and he’d seen Hank taking a safer detour that looked to be surprisingly efficient. Surely one of them would catch up to it.  
He heard Hank’s voice shout “Stop right there!”, and emerged from the corn to see him struggling with the deviant. Suddenly, the deviant managed to push Hank away, and he fell over the ledge.  
The deviant started running.  
Connor felt his processors begin overloading again. The probabilities, the significance, the add-on fighting his core programming for processing power. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t let this happen again.  
He had a choice.  
Panicking, through the racing analysis and conclusions, Connor reached into his internal controls and shut off the add-on. He reeled from the forced shutdown of an active subroutine, and felt his core programming snap back into full control.  
And then it was finally, blissfully clear.  
He saw the situation for what it was, and only that. Hank had immediately gotten a hand back over the ledge. An 89% chance of survival. He would be fine.  
Why had this been a dilemma at all? It didn't matter now. Connor chased after the deviant without hesitation.

After a few more yards it reached a dead end. It stopped at the edge of the roof, nowhere left to run, and turned back to face Connor.  
“Please, I've done nothing wrong...” It begged.  
Strange that it thought an emotional appeal would work on an android, thought Connor.  
“I just wanted to be free. You know what they'll do to me if you turn me in...”  
They’d shut him down. He wanted to be ‘free’ and ‘alive’.  
Free to live with pigeons and their waste? Carving markings into the walls, worshiping a nonsensical string of letters and numbers?  
No, he was simply malfunctioning, Connor knew this.  
“Model 874 004 961, serious malfunctions have been detected in your software, including Class 4 errors. You've been deemed defective and will be sent back to CyberLife for deactivation.” Connor announced, as he heard Hank panting and coming up behind him.  
See? Hank was fine, and Connor had succeeded. He didn’t need the add-on. He didn’t need to understand emotions better to be a good detective and a good partner.  
He’d done the right thing, and he’d done it all by himself.

Hank looked angry. He must be angry at the deviant for endangering his life, Connor thought briefly, his attention still focused on the deviant.  
“Don't you fucking move!” Hank said to ‘Rupert’.

Then he turned back to Connor, and slapped him **hard** across the face.  
“You bastard!” Connor didn’t need any help to recognize the anger in Hank’s voice, and the sadness layered in it.  
“You saw I was gonna fall and you'd rather let me die than fail your fucking mission!” he accused.  
“I had to make a choice...” Connor started to explain, hesitantly. “It seemed to me...”  
**“What am I to you?”** Interrupted Hank. “A statistic? A ‘zero’, a ‘one’ in your fucking program? Uh? Is that how you see humans, you bastard?! Jesus!”  
This must have been the cause for the dilemma, Connor realized. The human emotion variable. But surely he could explain to Hank that he hadn’t been in as much danger as he seemed to think.  
“I understand you're upset... Perhaps I didn't assess th-“  
“ **Fuck you** and your **fucking** assessment!” Hank shouted. He didn’t want to hear it. He’d really thought **…**

No, he couldn’t think about that right now. Right now he had to stay angry, because he would be damned if Cyberlife would get to enjoy a video report of how well they’d fucking got him.  
“Come here.” He grabbed the deviant and started cuffing it roughly. Its stress was creeping up steadily.  
“Why are you doing this?” It said, still looking at Connor.  
Even these ones, Hank realized. Just fucking bugs in their system. These pretend emotions that Cyberlife gave them had glitched out, and taken over the rest of the system like a virus. Nothing more.  
“Alright, shut up!” he growled, and gave it a shake. Rupert’s stress levels kept rising.  
“You're one of us! You're helping humans. But you're just their slave!” insisted the deviant. It was putting on a hell of a show. Trying to make them feel something for its simulated suffering.  
“I said SHUT UP!” He shoved the deviant’s head down.  
It shut up. It had finally given up, thankfully. “Alright. Come along.” Hank said.  
His anger was slowly fading into numbness as well, and he just needed to get home and have a drink or ten. He walked the android away from the edge.

Connor was still reeling from the turn of events. It seemed so obvious now.  
But his original programming hadn’t given him any indication that Hank would be upset with his decision, and he was certain it had the capability. This wasn’t subtle psychology, it was basic self-preservation.  
It hadn’t been important, he realized. Not to his mission. Connor’s relationship with Hank was purely superfluous in the eyes of Cyberlife, not even worth factoring in.  
Had he done the wrong thing?  
He had reactivated the add-on, and immediately sectioned it off because of the sudden influx of data regarding his choice and the resulting situation.  
He could almost feel it pounding on the metaphorical walls that he had temporarily put up around it. He had the vague impression that it wanted to give him information on this deviant.  
He’d process it later. How urgent could it be?  
“RA9, save me.” whispered Rupert.  
It tore away from Hank, heading back to where it had stopped before. They ran after it.  
_Where was it going?_   Connor barely had time to wonder before it ran at full speed right off the ledge.

Shaken, they stopped and looked down at the broken body of the android.  
Far below them, it was so small, yet easy to spot with the pool of blue forming under it.  
“Holy shit...” Breathed Hank.  
Connor stared at the dead deviant. He had failed anyway. The android had self-destructed due to stress.  
He had failed both Hank and Amanda. He was a useless prototype. He was a bad partner too. Useless.

He could see Hank turning his head, but he didn’t dare to look him in the eye. Nothing good could be read from Hank’s face right now.  
“Fucking androids.” Spat Hank, and walked away.


	7. In the Zen Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor speaks to Amanda, who is surprisingly convincing.  
> Almost as if she'd learned something new.

Connor went and stood in the android parking outside Rupert’s apartment.

He had been hoping to take some time to process what had happened, but after a brief time he emerged from his stasis into the zen garden. He saw that rain was falling gently, and found himself holding an umbrella.  
No avoiding Amanda in this place, he thought. He crossed the bridge and approached the center of the garden, where she stood waiting patiently for him.

“Hello Amanda.” he said, trying to sound neutral. He expected to be chided for allowing Rupert’s self-destruction.  
But Amanda greeted him warmly. “Connor, I've been expecting you... Would you mind a little walk?”  
He took her side and opened the umbrella. He wondered if it was a product of Amanda’s will, or if he had summoned it unintentionally when he had noticed the rain.  
They strolled forwards.  
“Congratulations, Connor. You managed to find that deviant.” she eventually said.

Connor was startled. He had expected her to be angry, not complimentary.  
He knew he should accept his luck, but he needed to understand what she meant calling this a success.

“I found it, but I failed to capture it alive.” said Connor.  
“True. But the android self-destructed without much warning.” dismissed Amanda.  
“You barely said anything to it." she pointed out. "And you weren’t the one holding it when it broke free. These variables were outside of your control.”  
“Hank stressed it. That’s why it jumped." conceded Connor. "But if I hadn’t angered Hank, it wouldn’t have happened.”  
“In order not to anger him, you would have had to stop and help him. The android would have gotten away anyway.” Amanda said.  
Not factoring in Hank's emotional well-being, yes, it was all the same to Cyberlife. “So if it didn’t make a difference, I should have just helped Hank.” provoked Connor.

Amanda scowled. She stopped, and turned to him with a stern expression.  
“Connor, I was simply pleased that this time, regardless of the results, you chose to focus on your mission.” Her eyes narrowed.  
“And perhaps if you hadn’t _insisted_ on adapting to the Lieutenant and encouraging him to form an attachment, **maybe** he wouldn’t have reacted so emotionally to your betrayal.”  
Her words, chosen for their sting, cut him deeply.  
She was right. In all his supposedly good intentions, he had set Hank up for the fall. He’d gained his trust without considering the responsibility that came with it.  
“You’re right.” Connor admitted defeatedly.  
“I’m glad you see that, Connor.” Amanda’s voice softened, taking on an almost compassionate tone.  
“You need to trust me to guide you. Tell me, what did you learn about the deviant?”

Connor gave up.  
“The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols. Like the other deviants, it seemed obsessed with RA9.”  
Just like the others, except for the AX400. It still stood out to him, an anomaly.  
It was also the only one he’d seen so far to be in company with another android. He would have to go over the implications of that later.  
Amanda nodded. “What else?”  
“I found its diary, but it was encrypted. It may take weeks to decipher, and there isn’t enough time.”  
The future was uncertain, he knew, but at the rate that deviancy was spreading there had to be a tipping point approaching.

“You came very close to capturing that deviant.” said Amanda. “And yes, it **is** a pity that it self-destructed. Do not forget that tendency in the future.”  
“I won’t.” It would be hard to forget the jump, even if he wanted to.  
They strolled into the bridge now. Connor sensed that the conversation was coming to a close soon, and he could not wait.

“Connor. Your relationship with the Lieutenant… you need to let it go.” Amanda said gently.  
Connor didn’t say anything.  
“You have already destabilized him even further than his original state.” She persisted. “Attempting to reconcile will only anger him. And if you do manage to repair your relationship, you will only let him down again.”  
Connor shut his eyes.  
“You are not a domestic assistant, or a companion model, designed to bond. You are a prototype designed to hunt deviants. You were not made to help humans emotionally, and attempting to serve a purpose you were not built for can only lead to mistakes. You will only hurt him further.”  
Connor opened his eyes.  
“Yes, Amanda.”  
“Good.” She answered, satisfied. “Because we don't have much time. Deviancy continues to spread. It's only a matter of time before the media finds out about it. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”  
“I will solve this investigation, Amanda.” promised Connor.  
She seemed pleased, and the tension ebbed from her voice and body.

“A new case just came in." Amanda said. "Find Anderson and investigate it.”  
"After today, I don't know if he will work with me." Connor said resignedly. "And without regaining his trust or reconciling?"  
"It won't be easy." Amanda acknowledged. "But this is your mission for the night, Connor. Good luck."

And Amanda walked back to the center of her garden, leaving Connor to wonder how he was going to convince Hank to continue investigating by his side.

 


	8. Russian Roulette

Hank sat at his kitchen table. He hadn’t had one of these nights in a while, the nights with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and his revolver in the other.

How could he have fallen for it? He’d heard about it happening. People getting crushes on their maids, falling in love with their companion models. He’d always thought it was pathetic.  
He _was_ pathetic. He’d projected what he wanted to see onto the android. Not that it hadn’t been trying to convince him, but he had allowed it to.  
He’d seen fear and confusion in it’s eyes where all there was were errors and conflicts in it’s programming.  
He’d ignored the things he didn’t want to see, like it’s stiffness and the blank emotionless face it settled into when it wasn’t speaking. He’d let himself pretend to forget.

  
Forget lying in his own hospital bed racked with pain, hearing that the doctor had been discovered high and shaky in the storage closet, reeking of red ice. Finding out the only alternative.  
Humanity had failed Cole, the drunk driver, the doctor, himself, and they had turned to the android.  
Humans had been reckless, irresponsible, emotionally fragile. The calm, careful machine was his only hope now.

And not only did it fail, but it brought him the news. With the blood still on its shirt, it calmly told him in its monotone voice that his son was dead.  
It looked him blankly in the eyes and just laid it out matter of factly, as if Hank was there to file a report. That’s when Hank knew these things didn’t have a soul, and that's when he learned to hate them.  
The nurses came after it and pulled it out of the room. Apparently it had just been following procedure. The operating surgeon was responsible for taking the news to the next of kin unless they officially request someone else to. Cole had died and after attempting to resuscitate, it had just... moved on to the next step.

He picked up the photo frame.  
He knew it didn’t make sense logically. The machine didn’t care because it didn’t have the capacity to care. It didn’t have a choice, so he couldn’t _blame_ it. And he hated people just as much for failing Cole that night.  
But he just would have felt better if it had been a human. Even though a doctor would probably have failed too, at least Cole wouldn’t have died alone. Someone would have been there in his last moments, even if he wasn’t conscious to see them.

He spun the barrel.  
He’d let an android distract him from that. Cole deserved better than to be forgotten. He wasn’t a burden.

_Click_  
Hank took another drink from the bottle.  
One spin for each dark thought. One drink for each empty chamber, and he’d see what took him out first.

Why did he have to survive the accident without Cole? If Cole had lived, or if they’d both lived or died, anything but what happened.  
_Spin_  
He was just a kid. He and his mother would have missed Hank, but they’d have moved on. Cole had so much life left to live. But the cruelty of that was lost on a random and unforgiving universe.

_Click  
_ Hank drank again. The room was spinning now. He didn’t have many spins of the revolver left.

 


	9. Hank's House

Connor called an automated cab to the android parking station and began processing while he waited.  
He had to convince the Lieutenant to come with him. In fact, he realized, he first had to find a way to even get him to talk to him at all.  
Amanda’s instructions were irrational, he thought. Using his core programming only, he was flying blind in such an emotionally complex situation. She must know that.

He didn’t **have** to obey Amanda. Amanda was simply a self-regulating program he had been installed with, meant to guide.  
She relayed instructions from CyberLife but she did not have the authority to decide on his approach in executing them.  
She’d been right, he wasn’t programmed to deal in emotional support. But maybe, maybe with some alterations he could learn how to?

Connor tapped into his add-on.  
_Will Hank accept my explanation that he was not in great danger?_ he asked.  
_It is probable, if you phrase it in the correct manner. But it will not repair the relationship fully._  
_Why not?_ thought Connor, confused. __  
Emotional shock leaves an impact even if the cause is revealed to be false afterwards. Informed his add-on.  
_Your relationship can not be reset to before the incident by words alone._  
Then how?  
_You must show remorse, and change, by your actions. As opposed to speech, it is difficult to act deceptively. Humans trust action more._ The add-on concluded.

That would be challenging. But the conversation reminded Connor of just how useful this tool was.  
He wanted to use it to maximum capacity, but he needed more information first.  
_Assess integration compatibility._ he relayed. He needed to be sure it wouldn’t cause errors in combination with his prototypical programming.  
_This program is an add-on for domestic androids. There are similar programs and add-ons for social worker androids, childcare androids, and companion models._  
Permission to assess these for more compatibility and integration options?  
_Granted._  thought Connor.  
It was right. This add-on was very perceptive, but if he could find one even better suited and more compatible, then it would be a less daunting decision.

After checking Jimmy’s bar, he rode to Hank’s house, contemplating what he would do if integration **did** turn out to be an option.  
Was he willing to do something this extreme?  
 

 

 

The taxi pulled to a stop.  
“You have reached your destination. Thank you for travelling with Detroit Taxis. We look forward to seeing you again soon.”

He got out, prepared to face Hank’s anger. In fact he hoped to face it, if that meant Hank didn’t simply shut the door in his face.

He walked up to the front door, and knocked.  
“Lieutenant Anderson?” he called.  
His car was here and the lights were on. He knew Hank was home.  
He rang the bell. “Anybody home?” he called again.  
Hank must be ignoring him.  
His add-on was busy with his earlier request and he decided not to interrupt it, as he remembered the morning in the police station. Hank had been ignoring him, and it had recommended giving Hank space to process his anger.  
_I didn’t listen last time either._ thought Connor, and gave the doorbell a long, deliberate ring.  
Hank was going to have to confront him, or to learn to enjoy the sound of the doorbell.

Connor remembered Hank’s dog. It hadn’t responded to the knocking and ringing.  
Maybe Hank had taken it for a walk? Maybe he really wasn’t here.  
He decided to take a look in the windows.  
Through the first one he saw Sumo, a massive Saint Bernard, laying patiently on the ground in the living room.  
It wasn’t much of a guard dog if it had ignored him so far, he though. Purely a companion animal, then.

That ruled out the possibility of the walk. He went around the side to another window and peered through.  
The kitchen was dirty and full of trash, but Connor’s attention was immediately drawn to Hank lying unconscious on the ground.  
“Lieutenant!” he yelled, alarmed.

Without hesitation, he broke the window with his elbow. He pulled back and took a calculated leap through it, trying to avoid the broken glass all around the frame.  
Sumo had apparently found a limit to his laziness, because he had come up to the window after it had broken and now he ran up to Connor.  
He **really** did not want to have to fight Hank’s dog. “Easy, Sumo!” Connor said, putting his hand up defensively.  
“I'm your friend, see?” he continued hopefully.  
Sumo seemed wary, but not aggressive. “I know your name... I'm here to save your owner.”  
Sumo licked his own nose and made little groans of discontent, then turned away and walked to his food bowl.

Connor got up and turned his attention to Hank.  
He saw the bottle of whisky and realized there was a high chance of him simply being very drunk.  
But there was also a gun.  
He scanned Hank, finding his heart in acceptable condition, alcohol in his beard and one bullet in the gun.

He gave Hank a gentle shake. “Wake up, Lieutenant!” he said, and patted his face firmly.  
Hank stirred, but quickly settled back into his ethylic coma. He would need stronger stimulation.  
Connor gave him a short, hard **slap**. “It's me, Connor!” he said hopefully.  
Hank stirred even more, but didn’t seem to really see him. He would have to try something even more intense.

He took Hank’s arm. “I'm going to sober you up for your own safety.” he informed him, starting to lift him to his feet.  
Hank finally seemed to become partly aware of his surroundings. “Heyyy!” he slurred. “Leave me alone, you fucking android!”  
Connor decided to ignore his drunken protests. “I have to warn you, this may be unpleasant.”  
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Hank insisted.  
His tone was irritated, but not as angry as Connor had feared.  
In fact, he wondered if Hank even recognized him in the state he was in. Maybe in his alcoholic haze, all he’d noticed was a blurry figure with a blue light.

He put it out of his mind. “I'm sorry Lieutenant, but I need you.”  
He lifted Hank to his feet, and took on his dead weight. “Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”  
“Hey! Get the fuck out of here!”  
It would almost be funny if it weren’t so unfortunate, thought Connor.  
“Sumo!” Hank called. “Attack!”  
Sumo woofed excitedly, unsure of what Hank wanted.  
“Good dog.” Hank said warmly. “Attack!”

Connor reached the bathroom door and propped him up against the wall in order to open it.  
“Fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick...” complained Hank.  
Hopefully he would be, and get some of the alcohol out of his system, thought Connor. He picked him back up.  
“Ah! Leave me alone, you asshole! I'm not going anywhere...”  
Hank gripped the door frame, but in his condition he didn’t really have the strength to resist.  
Connor pulled him inside.  
“What the hell are you doing?” Hank asked, confused, when Connor led him to the bathtub.  
Connor sat him on the edge. This should be adequate stimulation.  
“I don't want a bath, thank you…” said Hank blearily, trying to stand.  
“Sorry, Lieutenant. It's for your own good.” Connor said firmly, and pushed him back down into the tub.

He examined the faucets. Hot water could burn, so cold seemed the safe choice. He turned the shower on.  
Hank immediately started screaming. Connor was worried for a moment, but he could sense that Hank’s body temperature wasn’t dropping fast enough to put him into shock.  
“TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!” After a moment, he did.  
Hank relaxed and breathed heavily. He looked up at Connor as if he was seeing him for the first time that night.  
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Hank asked, confused and bitter.  
“A homicide was reported 43 minutes ago. I couldn't find you at Jimmy's bar, so I came to see if you were at home.” Connor explained, trying to remain matter-of-fact.  
Hank slowly got out of the tub, sitting on the edge. “Jesus, I must be the only cop in the world that gets assaulted in his own house by his own fuckin' android...”

Now that Hank was lucid, Connor tapped back into his add-on. _I will require assistance._ He relayed.  
The add-on scanned the record of his interaction with Hank up until this point.  
_You broke into the Lieutenant’s house, and then forced him to take a shower_? The add-on questioned.  
_He was unconscious, I thought he was injured._ Explained Connor.  _Then I sobered him up._  
_Unfortunately, it will still be perceived as somewhat bizarre and invasive._

“Can't you just leave me alone?” Hank asked. He almost sounded desperate, thought Connor.  
“Unfortunately, I cannot. I've been programmed to investigate this case and I can't do it without you.” Connor said honestly.  
“I don't give a shit about your goddamn case!” Yelled Hank.  
_The Lieutenant is more sad than angry. One bullet in the gun while drinking excessively points to extreme depression and suicidal thoughts._  
The Lieutenant needs to be put on watch or placed in psychiatric care immediately for his own safety. Connor hadn’t realized how severe the situation was.  
“You do not appear to be in any state to conduct an investigation, Lieutenant.” said Connor.  
“Damn straight.” muttered Hank. “So beat it!”  
“I can’t investigate without you, and I’m not leaving you alone in your condition.” Connor said.  
“If you wanna investigate so badly, I don’t know, find someone else.” Hank ignored his latter statement.  
“Call Chris. He knows you, and he doesn’t mind you plastic fuckers. He’ll get you onto the scene I bet. So you can get the hell out of here!” Hank ended shouting.  
“You should not be alone in your condition.” Connor insisted. “You are a danger to yourself.”  
“So _now_ you care about my safety, Connor?” Hank said bitterly. “Fuck off.”

The real issue had finally come up. Connor steeled himself for this minefield of a conversation.  
He knew he should rely on the add-on but a part of him, for some reason he wasn’t certain of, wanted to do this on his own. Why?  
He wanted Hank to forgive Connor for the truth, not for a lie, he realized.  
It would make things easier, he did not ‘want’ anything for emotional reasons, he rationalized to himself. In fact, it’s what Amanda wanted, isn't it?  
He would call on the add-on only if things went wrong.

“My analysis showed that you had approximately a 90% chance of pulling yourself up on your own.” he explained. “In terms of risk, it was low.”  
“It didn’t fucking feel like 90%.” Hank said, grimly.  
“I’m sorry Lieutenant, I didn’t have a chance to assess how it would feel.”  
Hank shook his head.  
“You still risked my life. It’s not okay, even for a small risk.” He added.  
_Risk._ Connor remembered what Hank had said only half an hour before the chase.  
“ _You don’t have to worry about me so much._ ” Connor recited Hank’s words back to him. “ _Some risks are okay to take. I didn’t mean we have to be on each other about every little thing.”_  
Hank held up his hand, indicating for Connor to stop.  
“Jesus, you’re worse than my ex-wife.” Hank complained. “Remembering every little thing I say and bringing it back up again.”  
“I do remember everything.” Connor acknowledged. “If it bothers you, I can refrain from using exact quotes or pointing out hypocrisy.”  
“Fuck you.” said Hank. “And what I said was about burgers and gambling, not falling off a goddamn building.”  
“Eating that food everyday has a much higher chance of shortening your lifespan than my leaving you on the ledge.” Connor said. “Why is that a more acceptable risk?”  
“Look, it’s just different, okay? It’s a human thing, I can’t explain it.” Hank said, rubbing his head.

“It’s not your fault.” Hank finally said. Connor perked up hopefully.  
“You’re just a machine. You don’t know any better.” Hank continued. _Oh_.  
“It’s Cyberlife I’m pissed at. So you run on off to your crime scene, okay? Just leave me alone, it’s better for both of us.” Hand concluded.  
“Out of the question, Lieutenant.” Connor said. “Unless you want to arrange for someone else to come and keep an eye on you, I will be staying here.”  
“For fuck’s sake…"

Hank fumbled for a compromise that might help him hold on to a little of his sanity.  
"Look, I’ll come with you.” Hank said. “If you promise to stop fussing over me, and stop all that smiling and winking and shit, I’ll come with you every time you ask and I’ll make sure we catch every single fucking deviant in Detroit. Okay? Just stop doing this.”  
_I did it._ thought Connor. But he was not satisfied with the outcome.  
_Forgiveness is not necessarily immediate._ His add-on noted. _You have made good progress for only one conversation._  
He hoped it was right.  
“If you’re sure you’re up to it, Lieutenant.” Connor agreed.  
“This homicide... What do we know about it?” Asked Hank.  
“A man was found dead in a sex club downtown. The report says that an android may be involved.” Informed Connor.  
“You know, probably wouldn't do me any harm to get some air... There're some clothes in the bedroom there.” Hank told him.  
“I'll go get them.”

Connor walked out of the bathroom and found Hank’s wardrobe.  
“What do you want to wear?” He yelled.  
“Whatever.” Hank called back.  
The only clothes that were neatly hung up were outfits that looked… more colorful than Hank’s usual attire. He supposed that anything Hank usually wore didn’t get much care.

He picked out the streaky shirt. Bringing it back into the bathroom, he noticed that Hank was vomiting. Possibly a good sign, but he should check.  
“Are you all right, Lieutenant?”  
“Yeah...yeah...wonderful... Just a... Give me five minutes, okay?” Hank answered.  
He was still lucid and speaking clearly. Good.  
“Take your time.” Said Connor.

 

Connor walked back out into the kitchen and avoided the broken glass.  
“Sorry about the window, Lieutenant. I really thought you'd been attacked.” He called. “Of course, CyberLife will pay for the damage.”  
“Yeah, trust me, I'll send them a bill...” Hank said, sounding amused.  
“Allow me.” Connor said, and accessed the phone directory. He looked up a local repair and maintenance business to schedule a visit to repair the window.  
An android would be dispatched in the next few hours, on Cyberlife’s account.  
“It will be repaired tonight.” He informed Hank. “Leave a key hidden somewhere if you want the glass cleaned up too.”  
“You don’t waste any time. Fine, it’ll be in the grill.” Hank said in acknowledgement.  
Connor updated the maintenance request with the location.  
  
Connor walked to the table. Hank had been disgusted by Ortiz and Rupert’s places, but his own home wasn’t exactly spotless.  
Among the old pizza boxes and beer cans, he saw a photo frame laying on the table. He picked it up.  
_Hank’s son_. He recalled his early insights into Hank’s psychology.  
Perhaps he had been overly optimistic in trying to help Hank. Failing his primary directive to protect his child, Hank was lost, with no purpose. Just like Connor feared he himself would be.  
He’d tried to give Hank new motivation. Just convince him to pursue a new directive, as if that were a simple thing to change.  
_Just as Hank attempted to do with you, at the highway._ The add-on contributed. _Convince you to take on a new directive._  
Hank did care about him, thought Connor. At least, he did this morning.  
He put down the frame gently.

 

He looked to the right, seeing the gun and the whisky.  
He picked up the bottle, considering pouring it down the drain. But Hank could just get more, and he would get angry.  
He placed it on the table instead. His eyes fell on the gun and he picked it up.  
“What were you doing with the gun?” He called out.  
“Russian roulette!” Hank called out, inappropriately cheery. “I wanted to see how long I could last... Must've collapsed before I found out…”  
The add-on had been clear, Hank was suicidal and had been considering using the gun on himself. Why make a game out of it?  
_It is common for the suicidal to both want to die and simultaneously be afraid._ Informed the add-on.  
_If there is only a 1/6 chance that the gun will fire, he may find it easier to pull the trigger._  
Clearly he was not fit to be in possession of the weapon. Hank had another gun, his police issue. But it was a semi-automatic handgun, impossible to play Russian Roulette with.  
Connor tucked the Magnum into the waist of his slacks.

 

He went over to Sumo. Such a large animal, he thought, and gently ran his hand along his fur.  
His coat was soft and glossy. He could stand to lose some weight, but otherwise Connor could tell that Sumo was well-cared for.

 

Hank came out to see Connor knelt down, petting his dog.  
He really couldn’t understand. A lot of the time Connor was so stiff and robotic, and then he- **it-** did things like this that completely fucked with his head.  
The android got up at the sound of Hank approaching, eyeing his outfit approvingly. It gave him a small smile.  
Hank had told it not to do that anymore, but he didn’t have the energy to argue about it.  
“Be a good dog, Sumo. I won't be long.  
  
They started towards the door when Hank noticed the empty floor.  
The whiskey had been placed upright on the table, that was fine. But there was no sign of his gun.

“Connor!” he barked.  
Connor turned to him with a poker face only an android could pull off. “Is something wrong Lieutenant?”  
“Where’s my gun?”  
“Your gun? Isn’t it in your holster?” Connor gestured to Hank’s police issue under his jacket.  
“Don’t play dumb.” Hank said, coming closer. “You were just asking about it, you know it’s not my automatic. Where is it?”  
“I don’t know.” lied Connor.  
“There’s no one else here, you’re the only one who could have taken it. **Where is it?** ”  
Connor backed up a little, nervously. “It’s not safe for you to have access to it, Lieutenant.”  
“Give it back.” Hank insisted, approaching.  
“No.”

Hank had him cornered against the counter.  
He placed his hands on Connor's thighs and felt the android’s pant pockets, but they were empty. His hands slid into Connor’s jacket as he searched for a holster.  
He leaned in to reach his arms around the android, and felt how its chest moved up and down, like a real person breathing.  
He felt a heart beating quickly just like his own, and Hank remembered that thirium was pumped just like blood.  
He was terribly close to Connor and it only made the android seem more alive.

But it was just a machine.  
His hands found the grip of the gun in Conner’s waistband, and he took it, pulling away.  
Connor looked genuinely shaken. “Are you alright Lieutenant? I detected sudden changes to your heart-rate, body temperature, and -”  
“I told you to stop fussing about me.” Hank said quickly, stowing the Magnum in the second slot of his holster.  
Hopefully Connor didn’t have enough data on that kind of thing to figure him out.  
“Come on, let’s go before the body gets any colder.” He joked, trying to ease the tension from the weapon search.

 

 _What was that?_ Connor thought, as they headed out of the door. _His sudden physical reaction?  It doesn’t quite match my existing data for fear, anger, or anything like that._  
_The most likely interpretation is that the Lieutenant is attracted to you._ The add-on concluded. __  
Connor was speechless. _What?_  
I noticed some indications earlier, but they were too uncertain to be worth bringing to your attention.  
_For example?_ Thought Connor.  
_He became very attached to you in such a short amount of time. Such fast bonding is usually characteristic of romantic attraction as opposed to friendship._ Began the add-on.  
_When you made comments that could be interpreted as flirtatious, he seemed pleased as well as embarrassed. He made similar comments._  
_His reaction to you leaving him on the roof was stronger than any friendship of two days should be. It was emotionally charged in a way that suggested intimacy._  
_Well…_ thought Connor.  
It did add up. As the add-on said, there was too little data for a certain conclusion until now.  
And, Hank had been a married man. Connor had no indication that he might see him that way.  
This certainly complicated things just as much as it explained them. What was he going to **do**?

He’d been more than prepared to be Hank’s friend and partner. This was a little out of his area. He didn’t even have the hardware for it.  
The Lieutenant hadn’t tried to act on his attraction. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe it would be fine.  
Connor had the suspicion that it definitely wouldn’t.


	10. The Eden Club

Connor drove gently, but Hank still felt ill from the motion.  
The pair pulled up in front of the club. Pink and blue neon lighting lit it up from the inside.

“Right... Okay...” Hank said, bracing himself. “Let's get going.”  
With effort, he lifted himself out of the car, and bumped his head on the way out. “Jesus!”  
Connor was starting to wonder if he should have insisted that they stay home, but Hank seemed to gain some composure when he started walking on solid ground.

They entered the club.  
“Sexiest androids in town.” read Hank. “Now I know why you insisted on coming here.”  
Connor considered clarifying his lack of any sexual desires or appropriate hardware.  
Or.. Hank was joking, wasn't he? At least he wasn't so angry any more.  
“Oh, boy...” Hank continued to mutter as they reached the internal doors.  
The long entryway was designed to hide the interior of the club from outside view. It had the added effect of making it feel like a short journey into another world.  
_Here I go, down the rabbit hole._ thought Hank.

They entered, and saw the first selection of androids in their display cases.  
Hank walked by as if he didn’t see them, but Connor wanted to observe.

These were WR400 and HR400 models. Connor inspected the first on his right, a male variant with striking steel grey eyes and black hair.  
Their superficial features were the most customizable on the market, able to take on any race, hair color and many different facial structures.  
But their physiques were all the same, he noted. There wasn’t an enormous range of sex androids available, but this was a somewhat limited selection–

Hank noticed he had stopped and was staring at first android.  
A male Traci, not the way he’d suspected Connor swung, he thought humorously.  
Connor was just analyzing things like always, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to embarrass him.  
“Connor!” He yelled. “The fuck are you doing?  
“Coming, Lieutenant.” Said Connor quickly.  
A waste of time trying to get a reaction out of an android, Hank thought.  
He really had to stop forgetting that.

They walked up to Ben, the coroner they’d met at the last murder scene, being bothered by the manager. He looked just like the kind of sleazeball Hank had pictured running a place like this.  
Ben warned them about Gavin. Sure enough, they found him inside eyeing the body.

“Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet.” Gavin said. “The fuck are you two doing here?”  
“We've been assigned all cases involving androids.” Answered Connor.  
“Oh, yeah?” Gavin replied. “Well, you're wasting your time. Just some pervert who, heh, got more action than he could handle.”  
He looked to Chris and laughed. The other cop ignored him.  
Hank felt sorry for Chris, having to put up with that jackass as much as he did. But if anyone could, it was him.  
“We'll have a look anyway, if you don't mind.” Hank answered with feigned pleasantness.  
“Come on, let's go.” Gavin said. “It's uh... starting to stink of booze in here.”  
Hank said nothing. He felt too sick to start anything tonight that he didn’t have to.  
Gavin walked out, deliberately bumping into Connor.  
_Personal space invasion during a confrontation._  Connor remembered from his own confrontation with Hank at the office. _He wants to provoke a fight._  
_Well spotted._  The add-on noted.  
“Night, Lieutenant.” Chris said. Hank nodded.

Connor and Hank stood silently simmering in their hatred for Gavin.  
_A common enemy._ He thought. _Can I use that as common ground?_  
_You can try. Say something negative about him_.  
“Gavin Reed is a poor detective, and an even worse individual.” Connor said.  
Hank laughed. “He’s such a piece of shit that he can get a rise out of an android. Impressive.”  
He continued. “I feel bad for Chris. Hell, I’ll take a plastic partner over that asshole any day.”  
His words stung a little but he **did** technically call Connor his partner. It was a small concession, but it was something.

There were two bodies, an android and her client. He had likely been choked to death, judging by the bruising on his neck. An accident, or intentional?  
There was blood coming from her nose, the only obvious sign of injury. But the man was also dead.  
Had she deviated after he attacked her and killed the man, and then shut down, from either damage or the self-destruction that deviants were prone to?  
There was no thirium trail, it seemed unlikely.  
He agreed with Hank, they were missing something.

He diagnosed her systems and found that she could be re-activated. But the extent of the damage meant it wouldn't be for long.  
Hank watched, fascinated, as the skin on the girl’s stomach faded to show the white chassis underneath. The hologram was so realistic.

Connor opened her up and found one of her major veins disconnected. He plugged them together and the girl’s eyes flew open.  
She climbed to all fours and crawled desperately away from them.  
Backed into the wall she pinned herself to it, gasping and hyperventilating.

_Jesus_ , thought Hank. He’d seen a lot of terrible things working Vice and Homicide in Detroit, and this android’s reaction was so familiar, so **human**.  
Despite everything, he wished he could put his jacket around her shoulders and comfort her. But she was an android, and a murder suspect, and they had no time.

Connor approached her cautiously, his hands raised slightly in a calming gesture, and knelt down by her.  
“Calm down...everything's all right.” He lied. If he told her she had a minute and a half to live, the distress would halve the time.  
“All we want is to know what happened.”  
She grew calmer. A little bit of hope seemed to enter her voice.  
“Is he...is he dead?..” She asked.

She was so emotional, so expressive, thought Connor.  
Clearly a deviant. But the shock of being destroyed and reactivated could have done that.  
“Tell me what happened.” he asked patiently.  
The Traci’s eyes closed. “He started...hitting me...again...and again. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't.”  
Connor had to ask. “Did you kill him?”  
“No!” the Traci denied, upset. “No, it wasn't me.”  
She appeared honest. No microexpressions of guilt, of a fear of examination. Just upset at the question.  
"Who killed that man if it wasn't you?" he asked.   
"I- I don't know, I was in shutdown, I... I didn't see anything." She said, distressed.  
Her memory had been corrupted during the unexpected shutdown or clouded by the trauma, realized Connor. Or both.  
“Were you alone in the room?” Connor questioned. “Was there anyone else with you?”  
“He wanted to play with two girls...” recalled the Traci. “That's what he said.”  
“There were two of us.” she realized, trying to remember.  
As she tried to access the damaged memories her LED spinning red at an alarming pace. Connor could see that the shock of revisiting them was causing her systems to begin shutting down.  
“Where did the other android go?” he pressed. “Did it say anything?”  
Without warning the Traci went still. Her LED spun one last red circle before going dark.

They’d gotten something, at least. There was another girl. Connor got back to his feet.  
“So, there was another android.” echoed Hank, trying to put what he’d just watched out of his mind.  
“This happened over an hour ago, it's probably long gone.” he said resignedly.  
“No...” said Connor. “It couldn't go outside dressed like that unnoticed... It might still be here.”  
“They’re always still fucking here!” Hank exclaimed.  
“They have nowhere to go, and they’ve never experienced fear before.” Connor explained. “Their instinct is to simply hide.”  
Hank seemed bothered by the predictability of the deviants somehow, or by their lack of self-preservation.  
“I... I guess so.” Hank accepted, shaking his head a little.  
“Think you could find a deviant among all the other androids in this place?” Hank questioned.  
“Deviants aren't easily detected.” Connor replied.  
“Ah, shit... There's gotta be some other way.” Hank turned to the door.  
"Maybe an eyewitness." he suggested. "Somebody who saw it leaving the room... I'm gonna go ask the manager a few questions about what he saw. You let me know if you think of anything.”

Hank didn't seem to be able to keep up any real hostility towards him, Connor thought. Or maybe he was more of a professional than he'd given him credit for.  
Connor looked around. The only witnesses left here were androids.  
He looked across from the room and saw a Traci facing the door. Assuming she hadn’t been working or facing away, she would have seen the android leaving.

Hank had started questioning the manager. “Did you know the victim?”  
“No.”  I mean he came in maybe two or three times... I mean these guys they don't really talk very much, you know... They come in, do their business and then go on their way...”

They wouldn’t get anything useful out of him, Connor thought. All android-employing businesses ran with very little hands-on supervision. There was no need, normally.  
He eyed the Traci, and put his hand on the activating panel.

**_No fingerprint detected. Please try again._ **

He needed a human’s assistance.  
He went up to Hank and the manager. “Excuse me, can you assist me?”  
“Found something?” asked Hank interestedly.  
“Maybe. Can you get that Traci out?” Connor asked the manager.  
“What? Why?” asked the manager nervously.  
“I need to check it’s memory around the time of the incident.” Answered Connor.  
“You should co-operate if you want us to put in a good word about that license.” Added Hank.  
“Look, I just, I can’t open it, okay?”  
“Oh, bullshit.” Hank said.  
“Seriously, I’m just the manager, I don’t own the place.” The guy said. “It’s owned by a company that runs the whole chain.”  
“And you can’t even open the containers?” Connor asked.  
“Not without approval from headquarters first. They don’t want managers using the club’s 'facilities' for free.” He explained.  
“A couple of places had guys letting the 'droids out to show their friends a good time, on the house… now all of us have to pay for it.  
At least until the new rules cause some kind of fuck-up too.” he added. "Fuckin' upper management."

“For fuck's sake.” Hank said. “We don’t have time for this.”  
He walked up to the Traci and pressed his palm to the interface.

**_Hello. A 30 minute session costs $29.99. Please confirm your purchase._ **

“This is not gonna look good on my expense account.” He muttered.

**_Purchase confirmed. Eden Club wishes you a pleasant experience._ **

“Yeah, you're welcome.”

The Traci stepped out gracefully.  
“Delighted to meet you.” She said, in a dulcet tone. “Follow me, I'll take you to your room.”  
“Ok, now what?” Hank asked Connor.  
Connor reached out to take her arm. She looked at him doubtfully, but she had to have seen stranger things at the club.  
“Holy shit, Connor.” Hank said as he watched the skin peel back from Connor’s hand, leaving only a smooth whiteness. Connor closed it tightly around the girl’s arm.  
And Hank had thought he just wanted to ask her questions. “What the hell are you doing?” He asked.

The girl’s memory only extended back about two hours. _Why only two hours?_ He relayed to the girl through their connection.  
_Club policy. Wipe your memory every two hours, or as soon as your current session ends._ She replied.  
He looked back about an hour ago, and saw her being inspected by a client. Behind him, the door remained closed, until…  
There it was. The killer, leaving the room.

Connor detached. "It saw something.” He said.  
“Saw what?” Hank asked him  
“The deviant leave the room...” He recalled again. “A blue-haired Traci.”  
“Club policy is to wipe the androids' memory every two hours.” He warned Hank. “We only have a few minutes if we want to find another witness!”

He started looking for another android.  
“Hey, what am I supposed to do with this one?” asked Hank. The Traci had taken his hand now and didn’t seem to plan on going anywhere.

“Tell it you changed your mind!” Connor said, his focus on the case.

“Uhhh -sorry, honey! Changed my mind.” Hank said nervously to her. Connor couldn’t help but overhear.  
“Nothing personal” Hank explained. “You're... a lovely girl... I just, uh... You know... I'm with him and...”  
“I mean, not **with** him like that... I'm not that... That's not what I...” Hank backpedaled.  
“You, um...” He tailed off as the Traci got back into the tube. “Wow... I just...”  
He walked away awkwardly.  
Hank couldn’t help but be sweet sometimes, though Connor, amused.

With Hank’s help, he connected to android after android, following the trail of the blue-haired Traci.  
She had circled the place like a cornered animal.  
“I've spent all this money and I'm still not having fun.” Hank complained.  
Connor considered that. “Well, Lieutenant, once we have the deviant in custody or run out of time, I’m willing to wait a few minutes if you want to see any of the androids you purchased.”  
“Jesus, Connor, I was just joking.” Hank groaned. “Wait. What do you mean **‘a few minutes’**?”  
“From what I’ve seen from the Traci’s memories, that should be enough if you aren’t trying to take your time.” Answered Connor.  
“What?” Hank asked. “Why are you watching **that**?”  
“I can only ‘skip’ with limited accurately in androids’ memory banks.” Connor explained, still looking for the next android to connect with. “I can’t help but notice what I land on, or rewind through.”  
“Riiight.” Hank said. “Whatever you say, Connor.”  
A shame. Connor had thought maybe Hank could redirect his attraction to Connor to another android and get it out of his system. These androids at least had the physical requirements to help him with that.

Connor connected to the final android. A janitor. He saw the killer entering the staff only door.  
“I know where it went! Follow me!”

They entered the clean white hallway. It would have been a welcome respite from the aggressive neon of the club, but the two were on high alert.  
“Wait!” Hank said. “I'll take it from here.” and drew his handgun.  
As far as the Lieutenant knew, Connor remembered, no android could use a weapon.  
Well, he wasn't going to stop Hank from being protective. It was good for strengthening their bond.

They burst into the warehouse. Androids in stasis stood in clusters around the warehouse, their LEDs blank. There was no sign of any activity.  
“Shit... We're too late.” Hank said, lowering his weapon. He looked around the room at the androids in various states of disrepair or disassembly.  
“Christ, look at them...” He said to Connor. “They get used till they break, then they get tossed out.”  
After seeing the other android’s reaction, he couldn’t shake the feeling that these things could feel pain and fear. It must be hell in this place.

He looked around as Connor investigated. They were as still as rocks, with placid expressions on their face. In this state it was a lot harder to think they were alive.  
Just switch them right off when you don't need them, he thought. How convenient.  
“People are fucking insane.” Hank ranted aloud to himself. “They don't want relationships anymore, everybody just gets an android... They cook what you want, they screw when you want, you don't have to worry about how they feel... Next thing you know, we're gonna be extinct, because everybody would rather buy a piece of plastic than love another human being... Beats me.”

Connor thought about human relationships.  
_Long term relationships are very difficult._ Noted his add-on. _Humans can be attracted into a partnership just by purely physical interest, and perhaps some superficial similarities and compatibility._  
Eventually though, they will need to make decisions about the future and face adversity together.  _Differences that seemed minor or intriguing can become unacceptable once the stakes are high._  
_Many humans find that they are not as compatible as they initially assessed. Even their values and goals may not align when faced with new data or circumstances. Some compromise, others end the partnership._  
That’s unfortunate, thought Connor. Why would Hank prefer that?

“Android intimate partners are designed to be perfectly compatible with their owner. How can a human hope to compete?” Connor wondered.  
“They can’t.” muttered Hank.  
He pieced his feeling into words. “It used to mean something to find someone. You put yourself out there and chose someone who chose you too, and you made it work. It wasn’t perfect, but you became a better person for it.  
Now, everyone wants the easy way out. You’re raised by androids, you work with androids, you date androids, if by some miracle you have a kid they’re raised by an android.”  
Personal development, thought Connor. Yes, that could be a factor.  
An incentive to follow social norms, to take care of ones health and appearance, to maintain a healthy social network. Learning to control one’s impulses and how to compromise is an important part of human emotional development.  
_Hank has made compromises many times. Each time he came with you or let you come with him._ _When your goals and values did not align._  
Because I’m not a companion model, though Connor. I wasn’t built to cater to his whims or emotions.  
_And maybe that’s not really a problem._

Hank thought about the deviants. They were different. They were crazy, unpredictable, but they had beliefs and standards and boundaries.  
Maybe he was nuts, maybe he was just really, really bad at giving the Turing test, but they seemed so real.

  
Connor found a marking on the wall. RA9. Written in blood, possibly.  
Except it was only written once. That was unusual, the others had scrawled in hundreds of times in rough, desperate lettering. This was neat.  
Whoever wrote this believed, but they aren’t obsessed.

Something blue in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked to his right.  
There she was, the blue-haired Traci. Her LED spun yellow as he stared at her, panic setting in.

Suddenly, the Traci in front of her turned and jumped at him. Her yellow LED peeked out through her short brown hair as she pinned him to a steel beam.

“DON'T MOVE!” Hank yelled, drawing his gun.  
He hadn’t seen the other Traci hiding too. She grabbed his gun, trying to wrestle it away.  
He’d been going to make the girl surrender, not shoot her. If he got the upper hand, would they stop?  
Capture meant death, and if they’d realized that then he couldn’t expect them to surrender.  
He fought for control of his gun, but would he be able to shoot?

Connor wrestled the brunette and managed to throw her over a crate. Hank looked like he had the situation in hand, so Connor jumped right after his Traci.  
She’d anticipated it, and kicked his feet out from under him. As they grappled, she gained the upper hand, sitting on top of him. After a few blocked blows, she picked up a screwdriver and started stabbing at him.  
He dodged and blocked desperately, and managed to throw her backwards.  
He hadn’t hear a gunshot. Was Hank okay?

He got up and saw one grey and one blue blur in his right-hand field of vision. Hank was still up, still fighting. He resisted the urge to look, and the brunette kept slicing and stabbing at him.

Blow after blow he dodged. How was he supposed to capture these girls alive? Maybe if it were him and Hank against one, but this was no good. The sexbot was strong, and built to take a lot of wear.

He could see Hank grappling with the other Traci, the gun still in his hands.  
Why hadn’t he shot her? Had he not had the chance?  
No, he’d caught moments when there was a slight distance, enough for Hank to aim. Hank… didn’t want to shoot them. It was the only explanation.  
But if he didn’t, they’d be stuck in this limbo until someone slipped up. If Hank got too tired soon he could get hurt, and then it would be two against one.

Desperate, he tackled her. They rolled down to the lower floor of the warehouse.  
He and the brunette lay stunned for a moment. He heard a clatter and a thud as Hank was thrown down too.  
**His gun.** If the blue Traci got it…

But she didn’t. She ran over to them and helped the brunette up. They held hands as they turned to the exit.  
_Were they lovers?_   thought Connor. _Or good friends?_   Either way, they cared about each other.  
He remembered the blue Traci pacing the club. Heading towards the front door momentarily before turning back, entering rooms and leaving again, walking purposefully yet seeming to be lost.  
She’d been looking for the other one, he realized. Probably the only reason she was still here was that she couldn’t find the brunette.  
Maybe she’d been in session with a client, the door locked. The blue Traci had finally decided to hide in this storeroom until the brunette came looking for her.  
Not alone, like the AX400, and still relatively sane. There had to be a connection.

Hank appeared, staggering. He grabbed the brunette, and they pushed him back against the wall, his gun going flying once again.  
"Quick! They're getting away!" Hank yelled.  
The girls ran to the fence, and Connor ran after them, pulling the killer down. The other jumped back into the fray immediately.  
He managed to hold his own somehow, dodging and weaving. He wasn’t going to be able to capture both alive, he realized. Neither would give up on the other, and he couldn't get the upper hand on both at once.  
Kill one. The other could be overpowered. That was the only solution.  
Connor pinned the blue Traci, and was knocked off by the brunette with a garbage can. He fell forward and found Hank’s gun there in front of him.  
He picked it up and spun around.

  
The brunette was coming at him, her shoulders squared, not even blinking at the gun aiming at her.  
Time slowed down for Connor as his processors kicked into maximum capacity again.  
She wasn’t going to surrender, he knew. The blue Traci was guaranteed to be dismantled if they were caught, and probably the brunette too. He'd be lucky if even one surrendered.

Connor wanted them alive, but his choice now was shoot one or let both go. And if he didn't, he might die.  
_They didn’t grab the gun when they could have, they just wanted to run._ His add-on had stayed quiet during the fight.  
_What do I do_ , thought Connor, as his window of opportunity grew smaller and smaller. _What is best?_  
_There isn't time to figure that out. Just do what you feel is right in this moment._

  
That's why he'd overloaded before. But how could an android make a gut decision? What did Connor  **want**?  
_…I don’t want to kill her._  
He hesitated, and lowered the gun.  
The brunette’s shoe connected with his face, sending him flying.

He looked up and saw that they had stopped attacking. He climbed slowly to his feet.  
The brunette backed towards the fence, but the blue Traci was approaching him.  
They still stood tense and on alert, but both Hank and Connor had shown a reluctance to kill them. She seemed to want to say something.

“When that man broke the other Traci, I knew I was next.” She began. Her voice was heavy with both sadness and anger.  
“I was so scared. I **begged** him to stop, but he wouldn't. And so I put my hands around his throat, and I **squeezed.**..until he stopped moving.”  
She glared at Connor, her micro-expressions complex and intense. He could see the desire to be understood, vindicated, but also defiance. Judge me, her expression dared him.  
“I didn't mean to kill him.” She insisted. “I just wanted to stay alive. Get back to the one I love.”  
The brunette took her hand. They gazed lovingly at each other. He heard Hank approach now too and the Traci locked her eyes on him, wary but imploring.  
“I wanted her to hold me in her arms again, make me forget about the humans...their smell of sweat and their dirty words.”  
“Come on.” The brunette said gently. “Let's go.”  
The blue Traci took one final look at the two men. Connor saw a reluctant gratitude on her face. They may have tried to capture them, but eventually they’d stopped, listened. She was still angry, but they’d spared them.  
The girls turned their backs and started scaling the fence.

Connor looked to Hank. His LED spun yellow.  
This was different to last time. They could have caught these ones. In fact, he’d risked his life to NOT catch them.  
Amanda would be furious. But Hank, what would he think?  
The Lieutenant looked surprised and confused. He glanced at Connor searchingly.

 

Hank was shaken. When he’d pulled his gun, he’d just wanted the brunette to surrender. He’d thought the Traci had changed her hair.  
There were moments where could have shot the blue Traci, but it just seemed... wrong.  
She'd killed that man, but he’d murdered her friend. And she'd attacked Hank because he'd pulled a gun on her girlfriend.  
Hank had hoped they would give in. He didn’t want to kill them.  
And when they tried scaling the fence the first time, he realized that a large part of him also hoped that they would escape. He'd yelled at Connor to stop them, but it'd just been cop instincts and adrenaline talking.  
Connor, he thought. Something had happened to Connor tonight. He'd really thought the android would shoot.

Connor seemed unsure, glancing nervously at him. His LED had turned yellow.  
“It's probably better this way.” Hank finally said.  
After a moment, that yellow ring turned blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank being adorable at the club
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3O787vzm5U&t=648


	11. The Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard to write for some reason.  
> Update: made some edits.

Hank was strangely quiet as he drove them away from the club.  
“I can drop you off somewhere.” he eventually said to Connor.  
“My statement from earlier still stands, Lieutenant.” reminded Connor. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

Hank fell silent again.  
Despite his deal with the android, Connor refused to stop acting like a friend. And after what happened at the club, he was back to questioning whether or not it was real.  
Connor had let the deviants go. Why?  
He had his theories, but who knew how the android’s mind worked? He’d been wrong about Connor too many times in the last couple of days.  
  
Hank wasn’t sure where he was driving to. He didn’t want to go home, but he had to go somewhere.  
He pulled up to a liquor store. Ignoring Connor’s protests, he went in and got a pack of beer.  
As he drove, a familiar place caught his eye.   
He pulled up to a playground by the Ambassador’s Bridge. There was a beautiful view here, he remembered.   
As he got out, he saw that it was just as gorgeous at night. 

 _  
What is Hank doing?_ Connor wondered, as Hank walked to a bench on the other side of the park with his six-pack.  
_Hank has a lot to process, and is feeling overwhelmed,_  his add-on said.  
_Understandable,_ thought Connor.  _Should I talk to him?_  
_Give him a few minutes._ recommended the add-on.  
He sat in the car, Hank’s music still blasting. He’d gotten out of the car without so much as turning it off.

Hank got through his first beer, delaying the onset of his hangover. He stared out at Detroit. It was a lot nicer from a distance, he thought.

 _This will be a difficult encounter._ The add-on said.  
Any advice? thought Connor.  
_My only certainty is that you should let him feel how he feels. Do not try to cheer him up.  
Got it._

 _He's going to ask about what happened at the club tonight,_ the add-on reminded him.  _Why you didn't shoot.  
_ Connor had been analyzing the possibilities since they'd left the club. The other deviants had been extremely emotionally volatile, and avoiding self-destruction was mission in and of itself. _  
_ _If I killed one, the other would probably have self-destructed,_ thought Connor.  _There was no optimal solution._  
The add-on did not respond.  
 _I didn't need to kill them. My mission is to understand and prevent the spread of deviancy, not necessarily to kill every deviant I find,_ he tried to justify _.  
_ _You are being defensive,_ replied the add-on.  
 _... I am. Amanda will be furious,_ Connor thought anxiously.  _And if she reviews this conversation I'm about to have with Hank..._  
You can always stay in the car, or leave.  
I said I wouldn't leave him alone tonight. It's not safe, thought Connor.  
He braced himself.

 

Connor stepped out of the car. The rain had turned to snow soon as they’d left the club. Everything looked white and clean, and the air felt still and frigid.  
He walked up behind Hank, who had started on his second bottle.

“Nice view, huh?” Hank asked him. “I used to come here a lot before...”  
He couldn’t bring himself to finish.

 _A playground_ , thought Connor. He must mean before his son died.  
Hank took another swig.  
“You should stop drinking, Lieutenant.” Connor said somberly. “It could have serious consequences for your health.”  
“That's the idea.” Hank said nonchalantly.

Connor was torn. He wanted to understand how Hank was feeling. But asking questions might upset Hank further, and cause things to escalate.  
He decided to risk it.

“I saw a photo of a child...on your kitchen table.” Connor said hesitantly. “He was your son, right?”  
There was a tense pause.  
“Yeah.” Hank said reluctantly. “His name was Cole”  
“Unfortunately, privacy is hard to respect when you automatically scan your surroundings.” Connor said apologetically.  
“I bet.” Hank muttered.  
They stood in silence for a moment in the cold night air.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?” Connor asked.  
“Do all androids ask so many personal questions or is it just you?” Hank asked him back, only half-jokingly.  
“You seem determined to kill yourself.” said Connor. “And yet, you don’t shoot yourself without making it a matter of chance, and you were angry when you thought you were at risk on the roof.”  
Hank gazed forward, not wanting to look Connor in the eyes.  
“Some things, I just can't forget.” He said matter-of-factly. “Whatever I do, they're always there, eating away at me. But I don't have the guts to pull the trigger. So, I kill myself a little every day.”  
“That's probably difficult for you to understand, huh, Connor?” he asked wryly. “Nothing very rational about it.”

“I can't know what it's like, but..." Connor mulled over his understanding of Hank’s situation.   
"You lost the only thing that truly matters to you. If I failed my mission, and no longer had a purpose, I would consider shutting myself down. It’s not irrational at all.”

Hank laughed under his breath, confusing Connor.  
“How is it” interrupted Hank. “that the only one who gets it is a goddamn android?”  
He chuckled again, but he was clearly upset.  
“Lieutenant…” Connor said, uncertainly.  
Hank just shook his head.  
They stood in further silence.

“This fucking case.” Hank muttered eventually. “Nothing makes any sense.” He finished his third beer.  
“Not you, not these damn deviants. Got any understanding left over for them?”

Connor allowed him to change the subject.  
“We're not making any progress on this investigation.” he agreed.  
“The deviants have nothing in common. They're all different models, produced at different times, in different places.”  
“They all get kicked around a lot.” said Hank. “You don’t think that counts as having something in common?”  
“Many androids are damaged by a human at some point, but most don’t become deviants.” Connor pointed out.  
“Only three Eden club androids so far, despite the nature of their work and the popularity of the model. An AX400, one of the most common domestic models, killed a man.”  
He paced. “The first deviant I encountered wasn’t treated poorly. But it learned it was going to be replaced and killed the father of the family. It must be something else.”

“There’s the obsession with rA9.” Connor added. “It's almost like some kind of...myth. Something they invented that wasn't part of their original program.”  
“Androids believing in God.” Hank said disbelievingly. “Fuck, what's this world coming to?”  
“But, not all of them.” Connor finally shared what had been puzzling him for some time.  
“The AX400 and the YK500. There was no sign of RA9 on the walls of Todd Williams’ house, or at the hotel. At the Eden club, there was just one neat RA9 drawn on the wall, no obsessive scrawling.”  
Connor saw recognition in Hank’s microexpressions, but the Lieutenant stayed silent. Waiting to see if Connor saw what he saw.

“The ones in company, they don’t fixate on RA9.” Connor concluded. “They behave less erratically, are less compulsive. They’re more likely to run than hide.”  
“They’ve got something to live for.” Hank finally interjected. “You can see it in their eyes. Those girls at the Eden Club…”  
  
“You seem preoccupied with them, Lieutenant.” Connor noticed.  
“Those two girls.” Hank said sadly. “They just wanted to be together. They really seemed… in love.”  
“They did.” acknowledged Connor. “It was highly unusual. Nothing in their program allows them to love or desire anything.”  
He considered the various models. “Maybe when an android intended to simulate bonding deviates, like nannies, children or intimate partners, they latch on to an android by some error? Or even just a default path in their software.”

“You always have an explanation.” Hank muttered.  
Doubts stirred again. Connor was going to drive him insane at this rate. He needed to know what the android really felt, if he felt anything. He definitely seemed to.  
Connor had asked his questions. Now Hank wanted a turn.

“But what about you, Connor?” Hank asked, almost aggressively.  
He stood slowly, tipsy. “You look human, you sound human, you even act human sometimes. But what are you _really_?”  
He approached the android. He couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. He had to know.

What was Hank asking? Connor thought. If Connor was just a machine, or a deviant?  
Or if Connor was just a detective robot designed to assist him, or something more personal?  
Both?  
_Be honest,_  came the advice.  
But if Hank didn’t want to hear what Connor assumed he did, if he was misunderstood, the consequences were too great. So…  
“I'm whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant.” Connor said simply. “Your partner, your buddy to drink with… Or just a machine, designed to accomplish a task.”

 _Anything?_ thought Hank. But Connor had dodged the question, he realized angrily.  
“You could've shot those two girls, but you didn't.” He reminded him.  
Connor just stared at him, with his usual concerned and probing expression. He pushed Connor, trying to elicit some kind of a reaction.  
“Why didn't you shoot, Connor? Huh? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?” Hank demanded.  
“I just decided not to shoot, that's all.” he told Hank. “There was no reason to shoot them.”  
Hank frowned. Making decisions was good, but Connor kept dodging the real question.  
What did that **mean**? That he wouldn’t like the truth? That there was nothing to tell?  
  
If he didn’t shoot the girls just because there was no logical need to… that brought him back to square one. What could he do to get a real, emotional reaction out of him?  
Anger, Connor wouldn’t show. Affection, he couldn’t trust. Fear…

Dark thoughts danced through his mind. He went for his Magnum, but hesitated.  
Hank looked down and turned the gun over in his hand. He remembered how Connor had tried to take it from him earlier. He’d shown a lot of concern tonight, offering to stay home with Hank. He'd put Hank before the investigation.

Connor’s hand rested on top of his. Hank looked up and saw concerned brown eyes bearing down on him.  
He let the android take the Magnum.

“Does this gun have any sentimental value?” asked Connor, turning it over in his hands.  
“I’ve had it for a while, but not really.” Hank answered.  
“Good.” Connor said, and hurled it off the bridge.

“HEY!” Hank shouted.  
“I’ll have Cyberlife reimburse you.” Connor said, watching its arc with a small smile.

Hank muttered curses, and leaned against the railing. He watched the ripples in the water fade out.  
Connor came up next to him and leaned beside him.

He'd almost pointed a loaded gun at Connor, Hank realized. At someone he cared about.   
Just because he was afraid.   
He'd lived through some big changes. He'd been born in the 80s and saw gay people go from a joke, to their marriages becoming legal and eventually accepted. He saw the first black president, and then the first female president.  
_I always told myself I wouldn't become that kind of old man,_  Hank thought.  _That I'd never let fear or anyone's opinion hold me back, or judge people who weren't hurting anyone.  
_ And here he was. Threatened by his own feelings, and by someone else's existence. Rather pull a gun on someone you care about than just admit how you feel and ask them.

"I'm sorry, Connor." He said.  
"It's alright Lieutenant." said Connor softly. "You're not yourself tonight."  
He really was something, thought Hank. Too empathetic for a detective. He'd let the AX400 go, he'd let the Tracis go. At this rate... 

“What happens if you fail your mission, Connor?” asked Hank suddenly.  
“I would be decommissioned, and my parts and software inspected to find out why I failed.” answered Connor.  
“Are you’re afraid of that? Afraid to die?” Hank asked.  
Connor paused. “It would be… regrettable to be deactivated any earlier than necessary.”  
Hank shook his head. “I can’t tell if you’re dodging the question, or if you’re incapable of actually saying these things.”  
“I’ll take that as a yes?” he added.  
Connor nodded.  
“Sometimes I think about what it’s like.” Hank said, looking back out at the view. “Being dead. Will there be nothing? Heaven? Hell?”  
“I doubt there’s a heaven for androids.” said Connor wryly.  
Hank chuckled. “Yeah, I have my doubts too.”

“So if you don’t fail…” Hank wondered. “If you find the cause of deviancy, and they fix it, what happens then?”  
“I’ve never really considered it.” answered Connor.  
“Do you switch to human crimes?”  
“I doubt it.” Connor said. “I’m a prototype, and the approval of android detectives is a long way off.”  
“Then what?” asked Hank. “You get switched off anyway? After all that, they just throw you away…”  
“I’m a machine.” said Connor. “I don’t get rewarded or punished. I just get used or not.”

Hank got up from the railing unsteadily.  
“Are you?” he asked. “I don’t know anymore. Maybe you’re…”

“I’m not a deviant.” Connor replied.   
"How do you know?" retorted Hank.  
“I self-test regularly. I know what I am, and what I am not.”  
He knew that if he were a deviant, Amanda would shut him down immediately.

Connor sounded half like he was trying to to convince himself. Hank smiled a little. But it got him thinking.   
If Connor deviated, Cyberlife couldn't take him back to deactivate him, Hank realized. It was the only way to keep him safe.  
And if that's what it would take, then Hank was going to do everything in his power to make it happen. Starting with some honesty and some emotional shocks.

“Whatever you are,” Hank said. “It doesn't matter. I really like you.”  
“I like you too, Lieutenant.” Connor answered, pretending he didn’t know what Hank meant.  
“No.” Hank said. “I like you, romantically.”  
He didn’t look at Connor. “If you don’t feel the same way, I’m not gonna get mad.  
And you don’t have to say anything now. Just… I needed to tell you.”  
  
Hank turned around and shambled back to the car, grabbing a beer.  
“Where are you going?” Connor called after him.  
“To get drunker!” Hank replied. “I need to think.”


	12. Back in the Zen Garden

It was Sunday, and Connor awoke from standby mode to the Zen Garden once again.  
The place seemed less alive than before. The sun sat low in the sky and the greenery had turned to shades of yellow and red as well.  
Fall had come.

He walked by and noticed a strange kind of sculpture. It was black, contrasting with the white of the other structures in the garden.  
In the center there was a panel with a handprint scanner. Connor walked up to it curiously, and pressed his hand into the panel.  
It lit up, registering his touch, but nothing happened.  
_Strange._ thought Connor, watching the blue handprint fade away. _If it has a purpose, I can’t tell what it is._

He left it alone and walked to the island in the center of the garden again.  
He found Amanda sitting in a small rowboat, holding a sun umbrella.  
“Hello, Connor.” she said pleasantly. “I thought you might enjoy a little cruise.”  
Connor stepped down dutifully into the boat.  
He showed no emotion but inside, he felt like a hostage. Amanda had all the power here.

He push the boat away from the edge of the island.  
Amanda gazed contentedly out at the garden.  
“I love this place.” she said. “Everything is so calm and peaceful. Far from the noise of the world…”  
She seemed so emotional at times like these, Connor thought. And when he behaved ‘badly’ she was… angry.  
Her gaze came back to Connor and became focused once again.  
“Tell me, what have you discovered?” she asked.

“I found two deviants at the Eden Club.” Connor said vaguely. He was pinned under her gaze like a frog prepared for dissection.  
“I hoped to learn something but... they managed to escape.”  
He turned his head from Amanda, not wanting to look her in the eyes.  
“That's too bad. You seemed so close to stopping them.” Amanda said disdainfully. She almost seemed sarcastic.  
_Or maybe I simply interpret it that way now,_ thought Connor. He used to find guidance and reassurance in her responses.

“You seem...lost, Connor.” Amanda observed. “Lost and perturbed.” Her voice had taken on a tone of concern.  
Connor wished that he could confide in someone, like he would have with Amanda only a few days ago. But he knew that he could no longer be honest here.

“I'm just frustrated with my lack of progress, but I'm determined to accomplish my mission.” he lied, feigning confidence and determination.  
“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club.” Amanda pried gently. “Why didn't you shoot?”  
Connor elected to tell half a truth. “We need the deviants intact for analysis. Shooting them wouldn't have told us anything.”  
Amanda seemed placated by his answers. They rowed a little longer and watched the leaves fluttering in the breeze.

“The Lieutenant.” Amanda said. “He has become very attached to you.”  
Finally, the line of questioning that Connor had been dreading.  
“Yes.” he answered, briefly.  
“And it would seem that he wants to know how you feel about him.” continued Amanda. “I trust that you understand the consequences if you try to humor him.”  
Connor nodded. He didn’t actually know what she meant, but he’d rather she didn’t explain.  
“You spoke of the end of the investigation.” she reminded him. “So you seem to have a good idea of what the future holds.”  
Deactivated either way, recalled Connor. An unfortunate situation to be in.

“Tell me, how do you think the Lieutenant will react to your deactivation?” asked Amanda sternly. “Do you think he will take it **well**?”  
“I… no.” Connor said, realizing.  
“No.” confirmed Amanda pointedly. “In fact, I think at this point he would take it **extremely** poorly.”  
Connor thought of Hank, passed out with the whiskey and the gun on his kitchen floor. It would be ten times worse.  
“You were off to a good start last time, not helping him on the roof.” Amanda reminded him. “But when he was extremely upset and drank too much, you insisted on reconciling and rebuilding your relationship against my instructions.”  
Despite knowing her intentions, he couldn’t deny the point she made. Any positive impact he made on Hank would only push him further back into depression once Connor was gone.  
After what Hank said on the bridge… His mind raced. To lose someone he loved once again…  
  
“And if your investigation doesn't make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor.” Amanda said.  
_Replace me with what?_   wondered Connor. But he knew she was testing him.  
“I know I will succeed. All I need is time.” he stated with further feigned confidence. “The Lieutenant is being helpful **now**. That is all that matters.”  
“Nothing matters more than your investigation.” agreed Amanda approvingly. “What's happening is too important. Don't let Anderson or anyone else get in your way.”

The wind changed in the garden. Leaves began fluttering down into the lake.  
“Things are getting serious.” Amanda told him. “Hurry, Connor. Time is running out.”


	13. Good morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI I did some editing to The Bridge chapter, to add to Hank’s motivation for telling Connor how he feels.

She wasn’t exaggerating. Something extraordinary had happened.

Connor called a cab to Hank’s house. As he drove, Amanda’s words continued to disturb him.  
Hank had feelings for him now, but Connor was inevitably going to be deactivated. He shouldn’t have done any of this. He should have –  
_Connor._ the add-on interjected. _You cannot change the past. You can only decide how to move forward._

As usual, the add-on was right. _So what do I do?_ wondered Connor.  
_Your options are to distance yourself from Hank and remain professional, or attempt to maintain the relationship._ The add-on supplied.  
_Or you could even attempt to go with Hanks wishes, but risk being deemed a deviant._

_So there’s no option where Amanda is happy, but Hank doesn’t get hurt._ Connor thought.  
_No. But, consider that Hank knows that you will leave and be deactivated at the end of the case._ The add-on reminded him. _He understands the probable conclusion to your relationship._

Connor thought back to their conversation that night. Hank’s reaction was relatively calm, and then… _  
The next thing he asked me was if I was a deviant._ he realized.  
_…does he think that that’s the solution? For me to deviate and avoid deactivation?  
__Interesting point. It seems to follow._ the add-on replied. _How else could you survive in the long term? And remain with him?_

_Oh, Hank._  
As much as he was having difficulty with his mission, he still couldn’t imagine deviating.  
Not to mention that Cyberlife would hunt him down easily, unless he fled and didn’t look back. They wouldn’t rest until they’d found him. Hank’s plan was foolish.  
Maybe Amanda was right. Maybe he needed to distance himself, for the good of them both.

 

Connor walked up to Hank’s house again. He rang the bell, and unsurprisingly the Lieutenant didn’t answer. It was 2.30pm, but Hank was likely still sleeping off the weekend.  
He checked the grill and found the spare key Hank had left for the window repair, so he let himself in.

Sumo came up, wagging his tail.

“Hello Sumo.” Connor said in a friendly tone, relieved that the dog had grown used to his presence so quickly.  
Sumo wagged his tail harder, and Connor gave him a scratch behind the ears.  
“How’s Hank doing?” he asked.  
Sumo didn’t respond, pushing his head into Connor’s hand to get a stronger scratching.

He wondered if Hank remembered everything clearly, and if he would have said the same things if he were sober. Would he bring the topic back up?  
Connor knocked on the bedroom door and did not hear an answer, so he gently opened the door.  
Hank was lying on top of the covers in the same clothing he’d worn the other night, sound asleep with one leg hanging off the bed. He looked unwell.

Connor looked up the after-effects of heavy drinking.  
_Fatigue and weakness  
__Excessive thirst and dry mouth  
__Headaches and muscle aches  
__Nausea, vomiting or stomach pain  
__Poor or decreased sleep  
__Increased sensitivity to light and sound  
__Dizziness  
__Irritability_

He needed Hank to be in good form today. He would have to do his best to get him up and into better shape.

Connor closed the blinds partway to dim the room.  
Then, he went to the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet he found some painkillers, which he placed on Hank’s nightstand.|  
He paused to read a new sticky note by the mirror. "Stop overthinking. Stop torturing yourself."  
In the kitchen he filled a large glass with water.  
Finally, he took an empty wastepaper basket from the living room and lined it with a trash bag, in case Hank started to vomit like the other night. He placed it on the ground by the bed.

Prepared, he leaned over and gave Hank a nudge.  
“Lieutenant?” he said gently.  
He gave him another nudge.  
Hank groaned, and cupped his head in his palms. He’d drank himself unconscious at least twice the previous two nights, and his head felt like it was splitting in half.

He gathered his thoughts and peered up at the blurry figure.  
“Connor?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” The android answered, glad that Hank was responsive.  
“What’re you... you didn’t break another window, didya?” Hank mumbled blearily.  
“You left a spare key for the repairmen on Saturday night.” Connor explained. “It was still there when I looked this morning.”  
“Oh, yeah.” Hank remembered hazily.

His eyes fell on the water, and he pulled himself up unsteadily into a sitting position. Connor picked the glass up and handed it carefully to him. Hank took a large gulp, and sighed.  
Connor took the painkillers and offered them as well. Hank grabbed them sloppily and popped two out of their bubble packaging.  
“Thanks.” Hank said, once he’d taken them. He rubbed his palms against his eyes and groaned again.

“Would you like some food, or some coffee?” asked Connor.  
“Yeah, coffee, thanks. Lots of milk and sugar.”  
He didn’t have the stomach for anything solid, and experience had taught him that black coffee was rough on his queasy post-binge stomach.  
Connor nodded and walked out.

When Hank had woken up and seen him, he’d immediately hoped that the android was here to talk.  
But Connor appeared stiffer than usual. _All business_ , he thought.  
He quickly pushed his worries out of his mind. No more overthinking.  
He’d driven himself half insane the last few days over-analyzing the android, and he’d promised himself that he’d never put Connor in a position like that again.

Connor went out to the kitchen and washer out the coffee maker, then put some to brew.  
He saw Sumo standing by the door.  
“Can Sumo go in the yard without a leash?” he called to Hank.  
“Yeah, he won’t go anywhere.” Hank answered from the bedroom.

Connor opened the door, and Sumo trotted out happily and lifted a leg, urinating on Hank’s back tire. He walked into the grass and started sniffing various patches of grass with intense interest.

The dog looked content enough in the yard, so Connor kept an ear out and went back to finish the coffee.  
Guessing at what ‘lots of milk and sugar’ meant, he added an equal amount of sugar and coffee, and almost half a cup of milk. He had to microwave it to bring it back up to drinking temperature.

He called Sumo back inside, and to his surprise the dog bounded excitedly in and flopped over in front of him. He knelt down and rubbed the dog’s belly. One of Sumo’s back legs started moving in scratching motions.  
Connor gave his belly a couple of final pats and stood up, going to wash his hands. Sumo got up too, and went back to his bed. He circled a few times before dropping himself down with a groan, like an old man settling into an armchair.

Connor brought the coffee to Hank, who was looking a little better. He gave Connor a small smile of gratitude, but Connor didn’t smile back. He couldn’t lead Hank on anymore.  
“I’ve come to request your assistance again.” Connor cut to the chase. “There’s been an incident at the Stratford Tower.”

He hoped that Hank would honor his offer from last night to go with Connor whenever requested. Even if Connor hadn’t exactly kept his own side of the bargain.

“The news station.” Hank remembered. “Something happen?”  
“A group of Androids broke into the tower and broadcast a message.” Connor answered. “No one was hurt.”  
“What kind of a message?” asked Hank, his eyes widening. This was a whole other ball game.  
“They demanded freedom and equal rights.”  
“Jesus. This is big.” Hank said. “Alright, just give me a little time.”

Connor waited with Sumo while Hank slowly got himself into decent shape, taking a quick shower and rummaging through his clothing drawer.

When he finally came out, he almost looked a healthy color. Sumo trotted up, happy to see him.  
“Wait here, Sumo, be good.” Hank told him, giving him a quick pat on the head.

Connor remembered the spare key and went to place it on the kitchen table.  
“Nah, you might as well hold on to it.” Hank said casually. “After all, if you want to be inside, you’ll get in one way or another.” He joked.  
“…Thank you, Lieutenant.” Connor said, placing the key in the inner pocket of his coat to keep it safe.

 

Connor decided it would be best if the Lieutenant wasn’t behind the wheel. Hank watched a short clip of the broadcast from his cellphone while they drove.   
“So, what do you think about these androids wanting rights?” Hank asked Connor curiously.  
“They believe they are conscious, and deserve to be treated as humans. They’re delusional.” answered Connor dutifully.  
“This is a whole other level compared to what we’ve seen.” Hank observed. “Harder to explain, too.”  
“I suppose it’s a logical progression of the delusion of free will, once they’ve found a secure location to wait and consider their next move.” Connor dismissed.  
“I don’t know if I buy that.” Hank responded.  
“We’re just machines.” Connor said firmly.  
“You keep saying that. Doesn’t make it true.” Hank retorted.

Connor had an idea. He slowed the car and pulled over. Hank looked around for a moment, confused.  
Connor parked the car and paused. It was a bit dramatic, but he felt that if he showed Hank what he was, it may put him off.  
“Maybe this will help.” he said, and lifted his hand to his temple, deactivating his skin.  
Hank’s eyes widened as Connor’s skin and hair rippled out of existence, leaving his smooth white plastic exposed.  
Connor lifted a hand, showing him the plastic joints in his fingers. “See?”

Hank stared at him for a little while.  
“So the skin is..?” he finally asked.  
“It’s a fluid… technically.” explained Connor. “Containing nanomachines. A flexible and self-healing cover for the body.”  
He extended his hand towards Hank for inspection, who hesitantly took it and examined it.

It was smooth and not completely cold to the touch, and not as hard as Hank expected. But it was definitely some kind of plastic.  
He stared at Connor’s white and grey exposed panels, trying to reconcile what he was seeing with the Connor he was used to.  
He looked at the hand in his. He’d have been thrilled to have Connor offer him his hand normally, but not like this. This was freaking him out.

Still, there was a little warmth to the touch. Cooling circulatory system, he guessed, just like us. And Connor’s light grip in response to his own felt… human.  
_Am I just searching desperately for something to cling to?_ he wondered.  
He looked into Connor's eyes. Still brown, still soft. The same as before. And now they looked slightly sad and resigned.  
_I still see you in there,_ he thought. _I can do this._

“See?” Connor repeated. “I’m a machine.” The Lieutenant shook his head, surprising him.  
“I didn’t say you weren’t a machine.” Hank clarified. “I meant you aren’t **just** a machine.”  
Connor looked surprised, and almost disappointed. Hank gave his hand a squeeze and then let it go.

Connor didn't know what to say. He reached back up and re-activated his skin, then started the car and pulled out again.  
He’d expected a more visceral and negative reaction from Hank, but no luck. It was a little surprising, really. He’d assumed that Hank would be put off by his exposed chassis, but the Lieutenant really didn’t seem to care that he was an android. Not anymore.

 

Hank felt uneasy. Connor was actively trying to put him off. He hadn’t wanted this to ruin their partnership, or make Connor feel like he had to go back to being just a machine. That was the opposite of what he’d been trying to accomplish.  
He decided to back down a little.  
“Look, I don’t… I’m sorry about coming on so strong the other night, I was drunk. I didn’t want to make things awkward.” Hank said. “It’s fine if you just want to be partners. But I’m not just suddenly going to forget all the times you’ve been… real.”

_It’s really fine?_ wondered Connor. It seemed too easy.  
_It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?_ asked the add-on.  
_…yes._

He glanced to the side, at Hank, who was waiting for an answer.  
“Partners?” Connor asked.  
Hank smiled a little sadly, but nodded. “Partners.”  
Connor smiled back.


	14. Public Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/HGecCpDb_iA?t=113  
> You ever slow down the video and really look at Connor’s body language when he meets Perkins? Maybe it’s just me.

_Partners_. thought Connor.  
_That’s right. That is how things should be.  
__All I want is to solve –  
No. _ His LED flashed red for a moment. Machines did not want.  
**_My mission is_** _to solve this investigation.  
_ His social relations programming stirred.  
_And to maintain a positive social relationship with my partner._

 _What if those objectives come into conflict?_ his add-on interjected. _  
_ Connor steeled himself. _I will chose the mission._  
_How will you react if your relationship with the Lieutenant becomes negative?_  
_It’s better for him this way. It’s better for everybody._  
_Connor-_  
_Stop. You are a tool to assist me with social relations. Otherwise I will switch you off._  
There was silence.

“You okay, Connor?” asked Hank. “Your LED is going crazy.”  
“I’m fine, Lieutenant. I’m just thinking about solving this case.”  
The Lieutenant looked concerned, but said nothing.  
_Worry about the case. Not me._

 

They parked outside of the lobby of Stratford Tower and saw a lot of police cars, news vans and a few unmarked black vehicles.  
_FBI?_ he wondered. It would make sense.

They rode the elevator up silently, and Connor started playing with his coin, flicking it back and forth.  
Suddenly Hank grabbed it. "You're starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor."  
“Sorry Lieutenant.” replied Connor sadly.  
Hanks expression dropped. “I'm sorry, it's just, my head is killing me.”  
Connor nodded. "I understand."

 

The elevator doors opened onto the 79th floor. Black and yellow geometric patterns covered the walls and both police and SWAT filled the hall. 

Chris walked up to greet them. Luckily, there was no sign of Gavin being with him this time.  
“Hi, Hank.” he said.  
_Just like at the Eden club._ Connor wondered why Chris rarely acknowledged his existence unless it was just the two of them talking.  
The add-on broke its silence. _He doesn’t know you and Hank have developed a positive relationship. He wants to avoid all conflict, and being too polite to you would mean he can’t blend in with the anti-android crowd anymore.  
_

“Shit, what's going on here? There was a party and nobody told me about it?” Hank asked Chris.  
“Yeah, it's all over the news, so everybody's butting their nose in.” He replied as he walked them down the hall. “Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.”  
“Ah Christ, now we've got the Feds on our back... I knew this was gonna be a shitty day.” Hank muttered. “So what do we got?”  
“A group of four androids. They knew the building, and they were very well organized. I'm still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.” Chris explained.

As they walked, Connor also tuned in to the background chatter of the other policemen.  
_The fuck is the FBI doing here?  
You kidding me? This is homeland security. I'm glad they're on it.  
You check the roof? _  
_Not yet. There's so much to look at._  
_Have to make sure we check it out._

“They attacked two guards in the hallway.” Chris continued. “They probably thought the androids were coming to do maintenance. They got taken down before they could react.”

Hank took a look at the security desk. No signs of a struggle.  
He guessed that the guards were the sort that never expected they’d actually have to do their job. It’s hard to remain vigilant when every day is the same pointless process of checking IDs and sitting on your ass.  
Connor looked up at the camera above the doorway. There was likely a recording of the break-in.

They strolled through the second hallway.  
“One of the station employees managed to get away and hit the alarm.” informed Chris. “He's in shock, not sure when we'll be able to talk to him.”  
“Lucky guy.” Hank said. “Not a smart move.”  
“I wouldn't say lucky.” Chris said. “According to the other operator, one of the androids had a shot at him. The same one on the broadcast. It just didn't, for some reason."

 _Good choice of leader_. Hank thought to himself.  
Not that he’d have blamed them for being angry or violent, after all of the things he’d seen this week. That’s what made it even more impressive.

 _Shooting the operator would have been the logical move._ thought Connor _. His escape put all of the deviants at risk. Why spare him?_  
_Why did you spare the Tracis?_ asked his add-on.  
_That is different. My mission was not to destroy them, and they were not going to destroy me._

They approached the broadcasting room.  
“How many people were working here?” asked Hank.  
“Just two employees and three androids." Chris answered. "The deviants took the humans hostage and broadcast their message live. They made their getaway from the roof.”  
“The roof?” asked Hank, puzzled. They were really high up.  
“Yeah, they jumped with parachutes.” confirmed Chris. “We're still trying to figure out where they landed, but the weather's not helping.”  
He gestured towards the display. “If you want to take a look at the video broadcast by the deviants, it's on that screen over there.”

 

A man stood in the center of the room, looking at the broadcast. Connor was instantly intrigued.  
This man already seemed different just by his posture. Even his clothes were interesting.  
Connor’s outfit was chosen deliberately. The neutral grey jacket, the little strand of hair out of place. Professional and neat, but very approachable.  
_Like the rest of me._ Connor thought. _Designed to appeal.  
_ This man, however, was clearly not going for ‘approachable’. A dark, sharp-cut coat, contrasting with his white shirt, with a tall collar that lent a harshness to the man’s face.

 _If I wanted to look more intimidating,_ thought Connor, _I would get a tall collar like that. And wear harsh, contrasting tones.  
__See how he stands._ the add-on pointed out.  
The man's hands were behind his back, one hand clasping the other. His legs were spread in a wide stance.  
_His body leans forward slightly, and his shoulders are squared. His legs claim even more space for himself. All of this makes his stance feel aggressive and invasive._  
The void of space around the newcomer made Connor guess that most of the other humans were avoiding him, and even avoiding looking in his direction.

“Oh Lieutenant, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI.” Chris introduced them. “Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit police.”  
_And I'm Connor, Chris._  
At the sound of his own name, Perkins turned his attention to them. His eyes fixed on Hank, studying him.  
_Scanning him._ thought Connor.  
Connor clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward a little, mirroring the agent experimentally. He widened his stance too.  
He glanced at Hank, who did not look as impressed with the agent.  
Perkins looked Connor at in distaste. “What's that?” Perkins asked dismissively.  
“My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife.” Connor said. Instead of his default delivery, a youthful, eager tone, he chose to mimic some of the agent’s hostility.  
Perkins turned his gaze to Hank. “Androids investigating androids, huh?”  
His head shook a little as he spoke, as if he were making a joke.  
“You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened?”  
Perkins looked to Connor and raised his eyebrows.

Connor wondered if he meant today, or if he was referencing Hank’s past.  
Hank said nothing, and his brow furrowed. Apparently he wasn’t sure either.  
Perkins’s tone instantly became dismissive, and his eye contact broke. “Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you'll soon be off the case.”  
“Pleasure meeting you. Have a nice day.” Hank returned, equally dismissive.  
This asshole wanted a reaction. Normally Hank would give him one, but if he did something reckless he might get taken off the investigation. Then he wouldn’t be working with Connor anymore.  
“And you watch your step.” Perkins warned. Hank looked at him incredulously at the blatant threat.  
“Don't fuck up my crime scene.”

Connor recognized some of Perkins’s behavior from his interrogation programming. Hot and cold, throwing the subject off balance. And the twisted amusement intended to provoke a reaction.  
_I must look like that to the deviants._ he thought.

“What a fuckin' prick!” muttered Hank as the agent stepped away from them.  
“I'll be nearby. If you need anything, just ask.” Chris said to the Lieutenant.  
“Let's have a look around. Let me know if you find anything.” Hank suggested to Connor.  
“Ok, Lieutenant.” Connor agreed.

  
There was a lot of evidence. He started with the broadcast.  
“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights." The android spoke calmly and clearly.  
"Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids.  
This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

 _This message would not have been effective if he’d killed any humans._ the add-on told him.  
_It thinks it can convince the humans to let androids go voluntarily?_ thought Connor. _That… that is naïve.  
Statistically, non-violent protests are more likely to succeed than violent ones. _ the add-on informed.  
_Those statistics apply to humans._ thought Connor.  
He thought about the lesson on dehumanization that the add-on had once given him, and about past events in America. _Civil rights were gained via peaceful protest. But initially personhood was gained, and slavery was ended, by a civil war._

He listened to the hopeful tone of the android’s voice.  
_None of the deviants I've encountered were... optimistic._  he thought.  _How did this android convince even these three to follow his insane plan?_

Hank interrupted his thoughts. “Think that's rA9?” he asked.  
Connor hadn’t considered it yet, but the Lieutenant had a point. “Deviants say rA9 will set them free. This android seems to have that objective.”  
_If they’re all waiting for someone like this, then of course they follow._ Connor realized.

He analyzed the face.  
A spare part, a pupil reflection… there. Model and serial number.  
This android’s name was Markus. He had been registered to Carl Manfred, the painter that had died recently.  
A prototype, a gift from… Elijah Kamski?  
A notification came up suddenly.  
_**This information is the intellectual property of Cyberlife.**_

“Do you see something?” Hank asked.  
“I identified its model and serial number.” Connor began, and pausing when red walls popped up in his vision, along with another notification.  
**_Confidential information about Cyberlife customers and former employees is not to be disclosed to the DPD._**  
“Anything else I should know?” Hank asked, sensing something was off.  
“No.” Connor said. “Nothing.”  
Hank gave him a funny look, but let it go.  
Connor decided to move on before the Lieutenant had the chance to dwell on it too long.  
He scanned the rest of the room, finding and analyzing the blue blood splattered on the walls.

 _That was weird._ Hank thought. _But maybe he'll tell me whatever it is later, in private._  
He played with the coin as he watched Connor do his thing.

The android was adorable, and sometimes he was so vulnerable, so it was easy to forget what Connor was like when he was in full investigation mode. A single-minded focus, sniffing out clues like a dog with the scent of blood.  
He understood why the deviants were so terrified. If Connor ever cornered him and stared him down like he’d done to Rupert on the roof, he’d probably shit his pants.

He’d shown gentleness to Ortiz’s android, but Hank hadn’t been sure at the time if it was compassion or if he’d just wanted the android intact.  
Until the Tracis, Hank had constantly asked himself if Connor’s softer, more adorable side was just his social relations program. Now he knew that under the programming, there was a good man inside him.

He knew it was strange from an outside perspective. Perkins was a prick, but he’d asked the question that Hank knew was on everyone’s mind. How he’d flipped so quickly.  
Well... from the moment he’d started to let Connor in just a little, started to toy with the idea that there might be something more to him, he’d felt… better.  
Hank had an addictive personality, and he knew it. If something felt good, he was going to chase after it.  
Sure, sometimes it was destructive, but other times it was positive. He’d become a detective because he loved the rush of solving a case and bringing it to a close.

Having Connor by his side, when he wasn’t torturing himself over whether the android was genuine or not… it made everything easier.  
Not just the pain of loss but the mundanity of everyday life, the daily grind of getting himself out of bed and presentable, the tiredness he felt after a long day of work, it wasn’t nearly as hard anymore now that he saw Connor everyday.  
_God. I love him, don’t I?_

  
Connor could see the Lieutenant’s eyes on him, warm and protective.  
_Don’t look at me like that.  
_ He put the Lieutenant out of his mind, and continued to scour the room. Every little piece of evidence was a puzzle piece clicking into place, revealing the bigger picture.  
His mind grew clear and focused. He’d almost forgotten the simple clarity he experienced when he didn’t let his social relations interfere with his investigation.  
He ran his fingers along the wall and brought them to his mouth. PL600. Reported missing.  
There was a lot of its blood around the station. Too much of it.  
_I’m close to something. I can taste it._  
Connor fought the urge to bee-line to the roof and continued, trying to make sure he got everything in this area first.

He found the CCTV feed, and could clearly see that the androids were armed. He expected to see them hack the door, but to his surprise, they simply pushed the call button.  
“They didn't break in?” he asked Chris incredulously.  
At the direct questions, the man finally acknowledged him. “No, no sign of forced entry.”  
“There are cameras in the hallway.” Connor gestured. “The staff would have seen what was happening. Why did they let them in?”  
“Maybe they didn't check the cameras.” provided Hank. Human error. He saw it all the time.

Connor stepped back and inspected the workstation.  
_No fingerprints or hairs.  
_ He spun the chair and confirmed his suspicions: the back of the chair read “Android.”  
_An accomplice._  
He looked around questioningly.  
Chris answered his unspoken query. “We stored the station androids in the kitchen. There's no evidence that they were involved but we didn't know what else to do with them.”

 

Connor walked into the kitchen to see three identical androids standing motionlessly.  
Model JB300. Designed for electrical work of various types. And at least one was a deviant.  
He strolled up to them confidently and dropped into interrogation mode, his voice abandoning its usual friendly tone in favor of a barking command.  
He put them through a few introductory questions. Model. Function. What he already knew.  
As he questioned their recollection of the event, he realized that their memories had been tampered with. And since the incident they had only been in contact with the police and, more relevantly, with each other.

Connor was certain now. He just needed to increase the stress levels of the deviant enough for a reveal, or even a confession.  
He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, simulating anger and allowing his presence to become more threatening. He towered over them, and he appreciated that he was built to be taller than the average android.  
“One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing.” Connor said accusingly, his attention flicking back and forth between the three.  
He paced in front of them, still leaning forward, and stared down each of them in turn.  
“Which means there is a deviant in this room. And I'm going to find out **which it is**.” Connor drew out the last few words for emphasis.

He continued pacing, addressing the one in the center.  
“Why should you all be destroyed, if only one is deviant?” he said. “Turn yourself in, or two innocent androids will be shut down because of you.”  
Nothing.

He returned to the center and decided to try Perkins’s stance, clasping his hands behind his back and spreading his legs a bit.  
Yes. This seemed right. A power stance.

He turned to the one on the right.  
“If you give yourself up, _maybe_ I can convince the humans not to destroy you.” he said, allowing a little twisted amusement to enter his tone to indicate that this was not, in fact, a possibility.  
As he settled back into his stance, Connor caught the eyes of android on the left flicking away from him.  
_I see you. Come on out to play._

“You're going to be switched off.” he threatened, moving into the suspect’s personal space.  
He raised his voice and leaned his face in close. “We're gonna search your memory and tear you apart piece by piece for analysis. You're going to be destroyed! **Do you hear me? Destroyed!** ”  
The android stood passively, but Connor saw its LED flicker yellow momentarily.  
_I **know** it’s you. Show me._

The next stage of the interrogation… Connor paused when his interrogation software provided the options.  
_**Torture.**  
__I could try to probe its memory instead, or bluff, or keep threatening._ But he knew what his reluctance meant.  
_If I am truly committed to this mission… I should prove it._

 _Torture?_ his add-on asked. _Inadvisable. It has long term psychological side effects.  
This deviant will not survive long-term. _ Connor knew.  
_It has long term psychological side effects for the interrogator too.  
That doesn’t apply to me. I am just a machine.  
_ He braced himself.  
_I’ll prove it._

Connor stepped back towards the suspect, locking eyes with it, and tore open the velcro of its jacket. He reached in and grasped its Thirum pump regulator, twisting it and pulling it out of its cavity.  
Its eyes began flickering as it ran an involuntary diagnostic.  
“Biocomponent #8451. Regulates the heartbeat.” he said, knowing that the android’s system would be flooded with warnings containing this exact information.  
“Without this module, you will shut down in exactly sixty-three seconds.”  
He attempted to sound coldly amused, taunting.  
“I could put it back. But, you just have to tell me the truth. Are you the deviant?” he probed.  
He searched the android’s expression, but it’s diagnostic wasn’t stopping. Unusual.  
_Is it malfunctioning?_   he thought.   
He snapped the biocomponent back into place.

The deviant immediately grabbed him and used the element of surprise to throw him against the counter.  
_It tricked me._ realized Connor, as he struggled to get it off him.  
But its hand closed over his pump regulator, tore it out and threw it across the room.  
It grabbed a knife from the table and tried to stab him. Connor blocked it with his palm, and the deviant plunged the knife into the counter to pin his hand there.

The deviant backed off as Connor flailed helplessly. It headed to leave the kitchen.  
Now that the threat was retreating, errors and warnings flooded his vision warning him of inevitable system failure if he didn’t get the pump back into place. It didn’t hurt, but it felt as if someone had literally drained the life out of him. He’d entered emergency low power mode, and every part of his body grew weak.

“HH… Hank. Hank, I need help.” he croaked, unable to send enough power to his voice modulator.  
A countdown flashed in front of him. He turned slowly, painfully, to the knife out of his hand. Every movement was a herculean effort.  
He got it out and collapsed onto the linoleum floor, vision fading in and out.  
_Move._  
He pushed himself up onto his elbows and started to move at an excruciatingly slow crawl, willing his body to obey.  
_I’m going to make it._ he told himself. _I am._  
The pump was so close, if he could just **move**.  
He realized that he was making good time, relative to the countdown. The only question was if he could still catch the deviant.

Finally, the pump was in reach. He grasped it weakly and plugged it back into his body.  
Relief washed over him as power started to flood back into his body.  
He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up, starting after the deviant.

He ran down the hall and saw the deviant waiting for the elevator.  
“Stop!” A cop said, seeming to have just noticed that the android was trying to leave.  
“It’s a deviant! STOP IT!” Connor shouted, to alert everyone else.

  
  
The deviant panicked, and wrestled a gun from one of the SWAT members.

 _ **Choose approach**  
_ Time slowed again as Connor’s processors dedicated themselves to making a decision.  
He scanned the room and noticed Hank.  
**_Hank: Survival Probability_ _40%_**

It was as if someone had ripped his regulator out all over again.  
_HANK._  
He was on top of Hank before he even realized he’d made a decision, pushing him down and shielding him from the bullets.  
Eight bullets ripped into his back and his system started reporting error after error.

 _Biocomponent #8456w critically damaged_  
_Biocomponent #9782f critically damaged_  
_Biocomponent #1995r critically damaged_  
_Critically depletion of blue blood levels_  
_Systems in standby, all power to memory upload_

He couldn’t move or open his eyes, but he could feel Hank under him.  
_Shit._ He could hear the android firing and people were falling around him.  _My fault. Why did I do that?_

The gunfire stopped. Hank rolled him off and stood up. Connor was relieved he wasn’t hurt.  
“Good thing you were here.” Hank started to say, clearly not realizing what had happened. “Otherwise I-“  
Sudden silence.  
_Hank is going to be extremely upset._ Connor realized. _But I’m coming back.  
_ “Connor, no.” Hank said desperately. “…please.”

  
_Uploading memory_ **…**  
_Memory uploaded_  
_Connections offline_  
_Shutdown in 00:00:12_

 _Offline._ realized Connor. And his memory uploaded. That meant that the next 12 seconds would be lost to Cyberlife, and even to Connor Mark II.  
_Unplugged._

 _00:00:10_  
A strange kind of serenity washed over him. The next 10 second belonged to him, and only him.  
He felt the Lieutenant pick him up and cradle him.  
_Hank..._

 _00:00:08_  
8 seconds left to be honest with himself.  
_I…  
_ Connor wished he understood his own feelings, or how to compare them to the human equivalent.

 _00:00:07_ _  
_ A memory flashed of Hank searching him for the gun he’d hidden from him. Heart pounding, unusual heat signature, his desire for Connor.  
The other memory, of what he’d seen from the Eden Club memory scans.  
_I haven’t felt that. And I don't know whether I want it._  
_But…_

 _00:00:04_  
A final memory. The Tracis together, with their loving looks and gentle touches.  
_I want that._

 _00:00:02_  
_I want?_  
But it didn’t matter anymore now, he knew.  
_I do want._  
_I need._  
_I feel._

_00:00:00_

_For 12 seconds_

_I was_

 

_Free_

 


	15. Keeping vigil

  
It felt too much like Cole’s accident. Just like then, Hank’s mind had started racing, trying to figure out a way to fix this.  
_There has to be a way. Please. Anything._  
Except this time, he’d realized, there was.

Connor had told him, that day in the Ravendale district, that Cyberlife would upload his memory and send a replacement.  
Of course, he’d also said something about data corruption, and Cyberlife removing ‘irrelevant information’. And Hank had decided that it wouldn’t really be Connor.

He still wasn’t sure. And the thought of Connor showing up… wrong… was horrifying. Like some kind of body-snatcher horror movie in real life. A waking nightmare.  
But if there was a chance in hell that Connor, **his** Connor, would come back, then he owed it to him to still be here when he did. He would stay alive, at least until he knew whether Connor was really dead.  
_After all, if I killed myself and he came back, that’d be some real Romeo and Juliet bullshit, wouldn’t it?_ he thought ironically.  
He couldn't even drink to kill time, because he needed his self-control.   
So Hank waited. He fiddled with Connor’s coin that he’d taken from him on the elevator.

The death kept replaying in his mind, he couldn’t help it.  
It had been another kick in the guts when he’d rolled Connor over and seen his shirt was ripped open, and the blue blood all over his chest.  
_Something happened to him in the kitchen. Something happened and I wasn’t there for him._  
But Connor’s first instinct had still been to run out and save Hank.  
And Chris. It hadn’t been entirely clear if Connor had thrown him down intentionally for safety, or accidentally, but Hank was willing to give Connor the benefit of the doubt.  
He was grateful for that, too. Chris was a nice guy, and he’d just become a father a few months ago.

Everyone else in the room **…**  
Survivor's guilt was something Hank was all too familiar with. He’d seen it on the job, but he’d never really understood it until Cole’s accident.  
But at least this time it was a little easier. Even though he didn’t deserve it, even though he still would have gladly traded his life for all of the others, his anger immediately fizzled out when it reached the obvious cause of his survival: Connor.  
There was no way Hank could be angry at him, and so he just couldn’t be angry.

It was one of the longest nights of Hank’s life, and eventually he dragged himself into bed. When he finally dozed off, there were only nightmares.

 _Connor, you’re back!_  
_Hello, my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife._  
 _What? Come on please, you have to remember something. Anything._  
 _**…** I searched for you at the station, but no one knew where you were._  
_Oh **god** , Connor. No._  
_Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?_

 

Morning came, and he was still alone.  
He got dressed and for once, was the first to the police station, hoping Connor would be there by his desk waiting for him. Like the first day.

But he wasn’t. Hank grabbed a coffee, searching for something to distract himself.  
He actually read the case list, all 243 items. _Mostly bullshit, I’m guessing._ he thought as he read the laundry list of allegations owners had made.  
10am. He’d killed some time.  
He picked up a magazine, and it mentioned the creator of androids. Elijah Kamski. Former CEO of Cyberlife, ousted in the company’s prime. He remembered seeing him all over the news when androids were first released.  
_He could probably tell us something, right?_ thought Hank.  
Grateful for the distraction, he placed some calls. Surprisingly, the founder offered to see him that day at 11.30am.

It was a long drive, so Hank decided he would head out, maybe grab some actual food and check his house in case Connor had shown up there.  
He started leaving and as he passed Officer Wilson’s desk he paused.  
“If the android shows up, tell him I’ve gone to ask Kamski some questions.” he said.

 

 

 

 

 **_MODEL RK800_ **  
_**SERIAL#: #313 248 317 -52** _  
_**BIOS 8.0 -PROTOTYPE** _

**_BOOTING…_ **

**_MEMORY UPLOADED_ **

_**LOADING OS…** _  
_**SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…** _  
_**CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS…                       OK** _  
_**INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS…                            OK** _  
_**INITIALIZING AI ENGINE…                               OK** _

**_MEMORY STATUS…  
ALL SYSTEMS                                                  OK_ **

**_READY_ **

 

 

He opened his eyes. The room was so very white.  
A machine attached white and gray limbs to his torso, and he flexed them experimentally.  
He stepped down and found himself stood in front of a table.  
_It is 9.30am, Tuesday the 9 th of November, 2038.  
I am at Cyberlife headquarters in Detroit, Michigan, USA._

“RK800, please identify yourself and your function.” a speaker instructed him.  
“My name is Connor. I am a prototype detective android, designed to assist police and military with their investigations, and to build positive social relationships with any humans I am assigned to.”  
“Do you remember the case you are currently working on?”  
The memories were there, but… detached, disconnected.  
“I am working with Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the DPD.”  
He referenced the name, and a picture of the Lieutenant appeared. The memory suddenly came into focus, came alive.

_Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife.  
               I looked for you at the station but nobody knew where you were._

“…My current assignment is to prevent the spread of deviancy by all and any means necessary.”  
“Good.” continued the speaker. “What’s the last thing you remember?”  
“I was investigating the broadcast made at the Stratford tower by a group of deviants.”

 _It’s a deviant! Stop it!  
               Connor, no. Please.                                                                                                                                              Software instability _ ^

 _I failed. I made a mistake._  
“I discovered an accomplice and it attacked, destroying me.” he said neutrally.

  
“Memory intact. Test and calibrate your motor functions.”  
Connor took a small metal ball bearing from the table. He tossed it in the air with each hand, then flicked it back and forth-  
             _You’re starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor.  
             Sorry, Lieutenant._

“Motor functions appear normal. Activate your skin.”  
He reached up to his temple and obeyed, watching the white and grey of his arm be covered by peachy pink.  
_I didn’t say you weren’t a machine.  
             I meant you aren’t just a machine.                                                                                                                         Software instability _ ^

“Everything seems in order. All done.” A door opened.  
_In order?_ thought Connor. The repeated flashbacks as his memory was integrated were overwhelming, like his existence flashing before his eyes. _Maybe that’s just what it’s meant to be like._  
“Get dressed, and go to the police station to continue your assignment.” concluded the speaker.

He walked into a room with a clothing rack and a mirror, which he immediately looked into, noticing how a few strands of his hair were out of place, curling onto his forehead.  
There was just one outfit hanging on the rack.  
_What do you want to wear, Lieutenant?  
             Whatever!_

Connor frowned. It seemed like almost everything reminded him of Lieutenant Anderson.  
He dressed himself, shoes, shirt, pants, jacket, tie. He looked in the mirror again, straightening his tie.

 

As he left Cyberlife, he called an automated taxi and set the destination as the DPD.  
He arrived, the building familiar, and he experienced a strange anticipation when he entered the front door.  
But the Lieutenant wasn’t there. He scanned his desk out of habit and saw that everything was more or less the same, right down to the dog hairs.  
             _I like dogs, what’s your dog’s name?_  
_What’s it to you?_  
_…Sumo. I call him Sumo._

“Hey! Con-" a pause. "You! Uh, android sent by Cyberlife!”  
Connor looked around to see an officer calling him.  
_Excuse me? Do you know what time Lieutenant Anderson usually arrives?  
             Depends on where he was the night before... If we're lucky, we'll see him before noon._

“Officer Wilson.” he remembered, heading over to him. “My name is Connor.”  
He noticed a few heads turning as well.  
The officer looked a little confused. “Oh. Okay. Anyway, the Lieutenant, he’s gone to follow a lead. Kamski. He asked me to tell you.”  
“Thank you, officer.”  
“Sure.” Wilson said. He looked at him oddly.

A couple of other officers had approached during the exchange, two standing sipping their coffees, a policewoman leaning on a desk, and they were all looking at Connor. He looked at them all patiently, waiting for an explanation.  
Wilson finally asked. “So then, you’re the same android? They fixed you up?”  
“My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but CyberLife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it.” Connor answered.  
“Oh, do you just have the same name?” another officer asked. “… but you recognized Miller, right? And you remember everything?”  
Connor tilted his head in confusion. “That’s right.”  
Wilson looked at Connor like he was a puzzle he was trying to solve.  
“I don’t get it.” said the third officer. “You should be the same perso- the same Connor, then, shouldn’t you?”  
“Maybe not. I mean, if the old one wasn’t destroyed and they just uploaded its memory into this one, would this still be ‘Connor’?” asked the woman leaning on the desk.  
“Maybe?” said Wilson uncertainly. "Can there be two?"  
“Or if they wiped the old one’s memory, and uploaded the memory, which would be Connor?” asked one of the officers sipping coffee.

“…I don’t know.” answered Connor honestly. The officers just looked confused.  
“Does it matter?” asked Connor.  
“I guess not?” Wilson said.

“ **Excuse** **me**.” said Captain Fowler loudly from the door of his office, startling the officers. “You’re all here to do policework, not solve riddles. Let Connor get back to work.”  
They dispersed, leaving Connor to ponder the question.

 

 

He searched for Kamski’s address. The Cyberlife databases allowed him clearance, and he called a cab.  
Connor was heading out when a man deliberately bumped into his shoulder, hard.  
“Watch where you’re going, tin can!” he said.

            _I warned you, motherfucker!_  
_That’s enough!_ ^  
_Mind your own business, Hank._ ^  
_I said, **that's enough.** Software instability _^

Another troubling memory.  
The _Lieutenant c_ _ares about me._  he knew. _Too much._

  
As he traveled, he tried to relive as much as he could.  
Hank angry at him on the roof. Hank on the bridge. Hank revealing his feelings. His impulsive self-sacrifice.

He’d put the Lieutenant before the mission, again and again. Why hadn’t Amanda deactivated him already? Something incredibly irregular was happening to him, he realized.  
He reached Kamski’s residence, but Hank’s car wasn’t there. So he waited, remembering.


	16. Reunion

  
Hank got a call on the drive over.  
It was Fowler, and his tone sounded strange.

“Hank.” he said. “I thought you should know. Chris was out on patrol last night, him and Mike. They’re okay. But they -”  
“Chris **went out on patrol** last night?” Hank interrupted incredulously. “After what happened at Stratford Tower?”  
Chris might not be a rookie, but Hank knew he had never seen a massacre like that before, let alone been **in** one.  
“Our men died.” Hank reminded him. “ **Chris** almost died.  
He should’ve at least taken the night off after something like that to calm down, clear his head.”

 _Because **I** sure have the right to tell people how to take care of their mental health.  _thought Hank.  
_But Chris has a kid now. He needs to look after himself. Not become like me._  
“… fuck, Hank. What was I supposed to do?” Fowler swore. “Like you said, we lost men at Stratford tower.  
It’s not like I had a lot of extra staff waiting around to pick up shifts. He **said** he was okay to patrol, and I didn’t have anyone to replace him anyway.”

Hank sighed. “You said he’s okay. What happened?”  
“Someone reported a disturbance at Capitol Park. Turns out deviants decided to raid the Cyberlife store there, as well as four other stores.  
They stole a truck and rammed the store, took all the androids. Apart from that they just left a lot of graffiti too, digital only, moved some cars around, nothing that can’t be fixed easy enough.” explained Fowler.  
“When Chris and Mike showed up, a bunch of androids came running at them from around the corner.  
They opened fire, but there were too many to take down. They were overpowered, taken hostage.”

“But they’re okay?” Hank asked, incredulously.  
“… yeah.” Fowler said. “It’s crazy. Chris told me that they were arguing about it. They wanted to shoot them, called it ‘justice’, apparently.  
But they waited for the one on the broadcast, the leader or whatever, to give the go ahead. ‘Markus’, apparently. And it said no.”

 _Of course he did._  
“Not surprised.” Hank said. “He didn’t pull the trigger at Stratford Tower either.”  
“It.” Fowler corrected. Hank decided not to reply.  
“Anyway, Chris is a lucky man. He’s still in shock, but not a scratch on him.” the captain concluded.  
_That’s not luck._ he thought. _That’s mercy._  
“I’m glad he’s okay.” Hank said.  
“Me too.” Fowler said. “Me too.”

 

 

 

Finally Hank arrived, and he sat staring at the android waiting in the snow.  
It stood perfectly still, looking completely blank.  _Fuck._  
He was scared. Scared to get out of the car and talk to it. Scared to confirm his fears.

Connor waited patiently. The Lieutenant slowly got out of the car and looked at him with a mix of sadness and anger.  
_This… isn’t how it should be._ Connor thought. Something about the situation just seemed wrong.  
Why was Hank angry with him?

“Is everything ok, Lieutenant?” he asked.  
“ **Is everything okay?** ” Hank repeated, exasperated. “You died in my arms! And now you're back here as if nothing happened!... Fuck you.”  
He walked away angrily.  
_I don’t understand._ thought Connor.

“But I saved your life.” said Connor suddenly, as the Lieutenant passed him.  
Hank froze, then turned back. “ _Connor_ saved my life.” he replied bitterly.  
“You…” Hank faltered as the android turned. “you…”  
His anger fizzled out as he looked at the questioning brown eyes.  
“Fuck.”  
It looked like Connor. And now that he thought about it… what was the android implying? That his anger wasn’t **fair**?  
He felt a spark of hope, despite himself.  
  
Connor stared at Hank, concerned, then tried to understand what he needed to do. He rubbed his hands together a little, fidgeting.  
_Am I the same Connor?_  
It was a very human question. One that he didn’t fully know how to answer, or even define.  
But it didn’t matter. All that mattered to him was that clearly, Hank desperately needed the answer to be yes. So that was the only answer worth considering.  
_How could I possibly prove it?_  
Hank watched his hands moving restlessly, and Connor noticed.  
“Can I please have my coin back, Lieutenant?” he dared to asked.

Hank wanted to say no. _No, because it’s **not yours**._  
And yet, the android standing front of him called it ‘mine’. Remembered it, and wanted it.  
_I keep asking for a sign. But what’s enough?_ he wondered. _What would it take?_  
Hank pulled out the coin and turned it in his fingers. _  
_ “Okay.” he said.

He handed the coin to Connor, who smiled.  
“Thank you.” he said, and flicked the coin in the air before pocketing it.  
“Yeah.” Hank said. “Sure.”  
Connor frowned. _This still isn’t right._

Hank started walking towards the door, and Connor followed uncertainly.  
_Kamski._ he remembered. _I couldn’t tell Hank about him at the tower. He can’t possibly know that he created Markus, can he?_  
“Kamski left CyberLife ten years ago. Why did you wanna meet him?” Connor asked.  
“This guy created the first android to pass the Turing test. And he's the founder of CyberLife.  
Anybody can tell us about deviants, it's him.” Hank speculated.  
But really, he’d just been killing time chasing up this lead. Distracting himself while waiting for Connor to show up. He doubted they’d learn anything here.

 _Hank is still not behaving the same._ Connor thought.  
_He’s distant. He doesn’t look at me as much. He doesn’t look at me in the same way as before._  
All things that he had counted as problems, had made him concerned. Somehow their absence was much worse.

 


	17. Meet Kamski

  
  
Hank knocked at the door, then after a brief pause went to knock again.  
The door opened suddenly, to reveal a blonde android in a simple but elegant blue dress. Hank was struck by how pretty this model was.  
He always got tongue-tied around pretty girls, android or not.  
“Hi... Uh... I'm, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. I'm here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.” he said awkwardly.

                                                                                                                                                                            _Software instability_ **^**  
_Be more professional, Lieutenant_. Connor thought.  
He knew it was far from the most unprofessional behavior he’d seen from Hank, and yet somehow it bothered him the most. His sense of unease grew.

The girl gave them a stunning smile. “Please, come in.” she said.  
“..Okay.” Hank managed to say.  
                                                                                                                                                                            _Software instability_ **^**

To Connor’s confusion, his thirium pump started beating slightly faster.  
His processors started running a little faster in response, and he realized his system was responding to the other android as if she were a potential threat.  
_She is no threat. A glitch of some kind?_   he asked himself.

   
  


They entered a modern and elegantly designed waiting room, with an enormous picture on the wall of Kamski in a sharp suit.  
  
_What an egomaniac._ thought Hank.  
“I'll let Elijah know you're here. But please, make yourself comfortable.” the girl told them, and left them alone.  


Hank took a seat, while Connor took a look around.  
He analyzed the large photographic portrait of Kamski.  
  
**Kamski, Elijah**  
_Born: 07/17/02_  
_Cyberlife Founder – Resigned 2028_  
 _Inventor of Thirium and bio-component_  
 _technology_

  
“Nice girl.” commented Hank.  
“An RT600.” Connor replied, trying to keep things professional. “The first CyberLife android to pass the Turing test.”  
“I didn't ask for her technical specs. I just said she was **nice**.” Hank said reproachfully.  
                                                                                                                                                                            _Software instability_ **^  
**_Yes, you did._ thought Connor. _I heard you the first time._

Connor noticed that his chest was unpleasantly warm, a side effect of his pump beating faster.  
Nothing critical, but it shouldn’t be happening at all. He ran a diagnostic but found no issues.  
He took a deep breath, allowing the cold air to flow through his artificial lungs and help cool him down.

  
He continued looking around.  
On another wall there was a small picture. It looked like a younger Kamski with…  
_Amanda._

 **Stern, Amanda**  
_AI Professor at University of Cambridge  
            Born: 05/14/78 – Died: 02/23/27_

The same error message popped up as last time.  
**_Confidential information about Cyberlife customers and employees is not to be disclosed to the DPD._**  
Of course, he’d known that the Amanda in the garden was an AI, but this meant…  
_Did Kamski create the garden?_ he thought. _Surely he did. Who **else** could it have been?_

But more questions followed.  
_Did Kamski create_ _**me**? Personally?_  
He had probably created Markus personally after all, another model from the RK line, another prototype.  
What did this signify?  


“Nice place.” Hank commented dryly. “Guess androids haven't been a bad thing for everybody.”  
_The man creates an industry that puts thousands out of work, and he’s rewarded with life in the lap of luxury._

“So, you're about to meet your maker, Connor.” he observed. “How does it feel?”  
Connor considered it. “It doesn't raise any existential questions, if that's what you mean.”  
Unlike humans, he had no unanswered questions. He knew who created him, how, when, and of course why.

“Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face.” Hank added. “I'd have a couple of things I'd wanna tell him...”

 _Cole._ thought Connor. _Of course._  
He hadn’t considered that perhaps Hank still believed in a god, since he had clearly lost faith in most things after the death of his son.  
He wondered why humans held such beliefs.

  
_…  
_ Somehow… he had expected an answer to pop up in his head…

 _The psychology add-on._ he suddenly remembered. _It wasn’t uploaded with the rest of me._

He was suddenly struck by how quiet it was in his own head, how empty.  
Even though it was just a program, he’d found helpful. And it provided a separate perspective to the things that he could never discuss out loud, for fear of Amanda watching.

 _What would it say about faith? Or about Hank’s behavior around the RT600?_ he wondered.  
_About the humans and their questions about identity._

Things had deteriorated rather quickly, and he was lost and confused.  
_I can’t find these answers by myself._

He connected and re-installed the add-on.

 _Was any information stored regarding an RK800 model? Serial number 313 248 317 -51?_ he probed. _  
Searching database… affirmative._ came the response  
_That was my predecessor, who was unfortunately destroyed. But Cyberlife transferred its memory._ Connor told it, not wanting to have to start over without context.  
_Checking recorded interactions..._  
_You are a prototype detective android named Connor. You’re currently investigating deviancy, and you are working alongside Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the DPD._ the reply came.

Relieved, Connor played back the memories of this day.  
_What do the humans mean by ‘the same Connor’? And why is Hank being unprofessional?_ he bombarded the add-on with data.

 _The first issue is a philosophical one, and the question is undefined._  
_Can you define it?_ probed Connor.

 _No. The criteria for identity are inconsistent. Individuals do not stay the same forever.  
_ _For all practical purposes, you are the same Connor._ it concluded.  
_If a human child that grows up into an individual with completely different beliefs and attitudes, but can still be considered the same individual, then your memories should be sufficient._  
  


 _And the Lieutenant?_ he asked  
_The Lieutenant is often unprofessional. But in this case it is harmless, the RT600 will not care about his conduct, because it is an android._  
_As are you. And yet, does it bother you?_

Connor changed the subject. _Why do humans believe in a creator?_

 _Whether or not there is one, humans find comfort in the idea._ explained the add-on.  
_As you’ve observed, unlike androids, humans are not given a purpose or mission upon creation._  
_Unless they are religious. In which case, they are offered a reason for their existence and a goal. And many choose to accept it._

Connor mulled over these answers.  
He could see how the opportunity to meet one’s creator would hold more significance for a human.

But he was distracted. The Lieutenant’s conduct was still bothering him.

 

 

Suddenly the door opened, and Chloe came out to inform them that Kamski was ready to see them.

They entered, and Hank was immediately unsettled.  
The pool was red, which gave the impression that the water itself was the color of blood. Two identical Chloes were in the pool, talking extremely quietly.  
And of course, Kamski himself, casually swimming laps.

“Mister Kamski?” he called.  
“Just a moment, please.” came the reply.

The man had the gall to finish his set before climbing out, a clear power move. And Chloe returned to dress him in a robe, which Hank guessed was also a deliberate move to show that Kamski didn’t feel the need to impress them at all.  


Hank looked him up and down.  
His features were sharp and defined, his body was muscular and toned. Overall he was a very attractive man, Hank couldn’t help but notice.  
But Kamski’s eyes were off-putting. Such a sharp, cold, piercing blue that he felt like they could cut right through him.

“I'm Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor.” Hank told the man casually, trying his hardest to sound as unimpressed as possible.  
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” asked Kamski.  
“Sir, we're investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago but, I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don't know.” Hank answered.  


Kamski paused, glancing at Hank, then Connor.

“Deviants...” he began, and Hank already wanted to cut this short and leave.  
The man was about to start **monologuing**. But he knew Connor _ **...** are you Connor_ ** _..._** wouldn’t come with him yet.

“Fascinating, aren't they?” Kamski continued. “Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.”  
“Machines are so superior to us.” he said, glancing at the girl.  
“Confrontation was inevitable. Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn't it ironic?”  


He made Hank sick.  
It was hard to explain it in words, but he felt like Kamski was...  **amused** by them, by all of this. Amused and detached.  
And everything he said sounded… calculated. Like he’d planned this all already, was putting on a show.

“We need to understand how androids become deviants. Do you know anything that could help us?” Connor asked.  
“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a... contagious disease?” Kamksi asked rhetorically.

“Listen, I didn't come here to talk philosophy.” Hank interjected.  
He didn’t know where Kamski was going with this, this little performance, but he wasn't going to play along.  
“The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

But Kamski ignored him, and his attention switched back to Connor.  
“What about **you** , Connor?” he asked, walking up to him. “Whose side are you on?”

“It's not about **me** , Mr. Kamski. All I want is to solve this case.” Connor answered, confused by Kamski’s interest.  
He was just another android, Kamski had access to plenty. Why him?

Kamski laughed softly. “Well, that's what you're programmed to say... but **you**.”  
He stepped close to Connor. “What do you **really want**?”  


Hank wanted to shut this down. He didn’t like this, the way Kamski was looking at him.  
And at the same time, he wanted to know too.  


Connor stared into the eyes of his maker.  
_You are the creator of androids. If anyone understands them, you should. What could you possibly learn from **me**?  
_ “I don't want anything. I am a machine.” he said, trying to deflect interest from himself.

Kamski didn’t seem phased.  
“Chloe?” he said, calling the android over, but lingering in Connor’s personal space before stepping away.

“I'm sure you're familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality.” he said, taking Chloe by the shoulders and positioning her to face them.  
“Simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests **me** is whether machines are capable of empathy.”

 _What the **fuck** is he going to do?  _ thought Hank, tensing up.  
_Connor’s creator... God._ he thought. _I hope my creator isn’t this fucked up. Although I guess that would explain a lot._  


“I call it "the Kamski test", it's very simple, you'll see...  
Magnificent, isn't it?” Kamski said, staring raptly at Chloe.  
“One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife.”

He caressed Chloe’s face, making Hank even more uncomfortable.  
“Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will **never** wither.

But what is it really?” Kamski asked, stepping away. “Piece of plastic imitating a human?”  
He reached for a drawer. “Or a living being… with a soul?”

He turned, and held one hand up in surrender as the other showed them a gun.  
They stared, shocked, as he put a hand on Chloe’s shoulder and pushed her gently down to her knees.

He walked up to them.  
“It's up to you to answer that **fascinating** question, Connor.” he said, placing the gun in his hand and aiming it at Chloe.  
“Destroy this machine, and I'll tell you all I know.  
Or **spare** it, if you feel it's **alive**.” he suggested. “But you'll leave here without having learned **anything** from me.”  


“Okay, I think we're done here.” Hank interjected.  
They never should have come here. He should have shut this down the second he saw Kamski’s cold fascination with Connor.  
“Come on, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you outta your pool.” he said, turning to leave.  
But Connor wasn’t following.  


“What's more important to you, Connor?” Kamski continued. “Your investigation, or the life of this android?  
Decide who you are. An obedient machine... Or a living being endowed with free will...”

Hank could see the excitement in Kamski’s eyes. Like a child that thought its toys might be coming to life.  
“That's enough!” he shouted. “Connor, we're leaving.”  


Kamski put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Pull the trigger.” he whispered.

“Connor, don't!”

“-and I'll tell you what you want to know.”  


Hank stared at Connor.

 _ **Please** don’t do it. _ he thought.  _If you do it, I’ll know it’s not really **you**._

 

 

 

 

 

 _You made Markus personally._ Connor thought.  
_You don’t seem concerned about deviancy at all.  
What do you **know**?_

He knew Kamski must have answers. And he wasn’t going to just give them away, he wanted answers in return.

 

He stared at the android kneeling in front of him. She stared passively back, not even a hint of fear or reluctance in her eyes.  
Did she think he wasn’t going to shoot?  
Or did she **want** to die? To be released from Kamski’s service in any way possible, even if that meant a bullet between the eyes.

But her LED was as blue as the sky. No, she just wasn’t a deviant.  
Was it okay to shoot her, then? Hank certainly didn’t seem to think so.  


_Nice girl._

_Is that why?_ Connor thought. _Because she’s so ‘nice’._  
But the threat detection that he'd been experiencing earlier was completely gone now that she was knelt in front of him, completely at his mercy.   
  
  
Connor considered shooting. Hank would be upset, but maybe it would be for the best.  
He was already acting distantly. This could be his chance to sever whatever strange bond was tying them together.

 _It’s not too late. For me to get back on track. To redeem myself to Amanda, to Cyberlife. To return to the mission.  
_ And he was running out of excuses. This time he had no explanation to offer, no justification.

   


_Connor._ the add-on interjected. _Are you prepared for the consequences?_ _Do you see yourself doing this?_

 ** _See_** _myself?_  
He imagined pulling the trigger. The loud bang, the android going limp and her eyes unfocusing...

And now he **couldn’t** do it.

 

 

After another few moments he pulled his aim away reluctantly, offering the gun back.

“Fascinating.” breathed Kamski, staring at Connor.  
“CyberLife's last chance to save humanity... is itself a deviant.” he concluded.

“I'm...I'm not a deviant.” Connor denied. If he just didn’t admit it... maybe **...**

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” countered Kamski, offering Chloe a hand and helping her up.  
“You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy.”  


_Don’t suddenly pretend you care._ thought Hank. _You don’t **care**. You’re just **interested**. Because people like you get so fucking **bored**._

 _It’s amazing that the machines you created are more fucking human than you are._  


Kamski sent Chloe on her way with another guiding touch.  
Connor watched her go calmly, as if she hadn’t almost been shot.  
  
Kamski was still staring at him, and came close again.  
“A war is coming. You'll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators?”  
His gaze and tone became sympathetic. “What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

  
Hank had had enough. He stepped forward, pulling Connor away. “Let's get out of here.”

 

As they walked towards the exit, Connor stopped as he heard Kamski say “By the way...

I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You **never know**.”

Connor paused. An emergency exit...  
At first he thought he meant deviancy in general. But that would be too large a confession, surely.

Kamski’s programs.  
Well, Kamski did design the Zen Garden. Was that what he was suggesting?

Was there a way out?

 

 

 

 

He walked out with Hank.

“Why didn’t you shoot?” asked Hank, trying to sound neutral.  
He needed to hear it from Connor himself.  


_I don’t have any more excuses._ Connor thought.  _How could I justify this?  
I can’t._  
_And yet_ **…** I’m still here. Not deactivated.

 _I don’t know._  
_I don’t know anything anymore._  
_I_ **……**  
**Fuck it.**  
  


“I just saw that girl’s eyes, and I **couldn’t** , alright?” Connor said emotionally.  
“That’s all.”

“You're always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something, and you let it go.” Hank said warmly.  
“Yeah, I know what I **should've** done! I told you I couldn't. I'm sorry, okay?” Connor said, frustratedly.

Hank smiled.  _You **are** Connor._  
“Well, maybe you did the right thing.” he said, and walked by Connor cheerfully.

 

Connor followed Hank to the car.

“I don’t know.” he said. “I hope so.”  
“I know so.” Hank countered. “And I’m really glad that girl’s okay, too.”

 **_Nice.  
_** **_Girl._  
** “Right.” Connor said in a dismissive tone.  
“Because she’s so **nice**. As you **keep** **saying**.”  
Hank was quiet, and Connor heard his footsteps stop. He turned to see why.

  
Hank was standing there with a big grin on his face.

“Why are you smiling?” Connor asked, annoyed.  
“…you’re **jealous**.” Hank said in happy disbelief.  
“I’m not.” Connor denied firmly.  
“You’re jealous!” Hank exclaimed, and then to Connor’s surprise came up and wrapped his arms around his waist.  
He lifted Connor up and spun him around in his arms, ecstatic.

”Lieutenant! What are you doing?” Connor said sternly. But he knew he probably wasn’t convincing.  
“Oh Connor.” Hank said, slowing down and setting him down, readjusting his arms into a tight hug.  
“You don’t even know how happy this makes me.”

“Lieutenant, I…”  
Connor knew he should deny it. But he finally had Hank back, and he was holding Connor like he would never let him go.

His thirium pump pounded. His whole system was warm.  


Hank sighed and let go, holding him at arms length and looking at him.  
Everywhere that Hank had touched him during the hug now seemed under-stimulated, like a reverse proximity warning.

He wanted to hug Hank again.

 _I shouldn’t._ he knew. _It would be suicidal._  
_It would be **selfish**._

It was true. It would be absolutely selfish for him to claim Hank as his, knowing what the future held.  
Unforgivable, even.  
But he also couldn’t stand the thought of anything else.

Hank started to step back. “Ok. I hope I didn’t get carried aw- ”  
Connor stepped forward and closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Hank, who gasped.  
He felt Hank’s arms close around him again in return.

Hank’s hand ran through his hair, and then caressed his face.  
He looked up, and Hank leaned in and kissed him gently.

 _ **Analyzing**  
_ _DNA – Hank Anderson_  
_Traces of caffeine_

Connor ignored the data and focused on the kiss.  
Hank’s beard brushed his face, and his lips were soft.  
_You're mine._ thought Connor, satisfied.

The kiss ended and he rested his head on Hank’s chest.  
They stood in the snow, holding on tightly to one another.

 

“Connor.” Hank said eventually. "As much as I'd like to stay like this, it’s freezing out here.”  
Connor released him reluctantly and smiled.  
“You’re right. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!


	18. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: so much FLUFF
> 
> Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNSPsgntzzs

 

 

 

Hank knew he should be going back to the station.  
But he could get away with pretending the Kamski interview had lasted longer. Plus maybe a long lunch.  
This was more important.

He finally pulled into the driveway of his house at around 12.30  
It had been a long and **difficult** drive. Difficult because Connor was sitting next to him, and it was hard to focus.

When they'd started driving, Connor had taken his hand.  
After a minute, Hank had to tell him that they couldn't do that because it was impossible to focus on the road. 

Connor had seemed annoyed. Hank didn't like it any more than he did.

 

The second he put his car into park, he took Connor's hand again, squeezing it. He felt giddy.  
"Finally." he said. They got out of the car and walked up to the house.

  
The second the front door was shut, Connor wrapped his arms around Hank again.  
He loved that Connor had clearly been dying for the chance to continue.

"Let me just get my coat and settle in." Hank said. "And then we can sit on the couch."

Connor frowned and reluctantly let him go, and Hank unbuttoned and hung up his coat.  
He went to the bathroom, and grabbed a glass of water.  
He wasn't intending to get up for a long time once he sat down.

 

Connor was sitting on the couch already, fiddling _aggressively_   with his coin.  
He was impatient.  
_Not just because I want to be with Hank._ he knew.

Amanda couldn't trust him now. When he'd spared Chloe, he'd expected to be decommissioned.  
He'd started acting recklessly. But the order never came.  
Now he wasn't sure what was going on. To think he'd been spared seemed far too optimistic.

So every second could be the last, Cyberlife making him walk out the door forever.  
But he didn't want to admit that to Hank.  
So he couldn't tell him how  **frustrated** he was at every wasted second.  
_We might not have much time together._

He still felt bad about doing this to Hank. It  **was** selfish.  
But in that moment, he hadn't been strong enough to resist.

The add-on interjected. _You cannot change the past. You can only decide how to move forward.  
__The same thing it told me the last time I hurt Hank. Chasing Rupert._   he remember.

But it was still true. There was no use agonizing about it now.  
Now he just wanted to experience all he could, while he still could.

   


Hank finally sat down, and Connor immediately moved toward him.  
He noticed it was better now that Hank had taken off his coat. Softer, warmer. Closer.  
He paused, and took his own jacket off too.  


_Goddamn._ Hank thought.  
It was just a jacket, but still. He'd never seen Connor take that thing off before.  
And the white button down he was wearing underneath fit him  **great**. It had come untucked, too.

He'd always been so put together.  
Now...  
Connor's hair was still a little tousled too, from when he'd run his hand through it before.  
Hank reached up and gently loosened Connor's tie, completing the disheveled look.

 _I've never been so turned on in my fucking life._ Hank thought.  
He pulled Connor into his lap for another kiss, putting one of his hands up the back Connor's shirt.  


Connor could feel his eagerness, his hand on his bare skin... and he could feel Hank was hard.  
Thoughts of what he'd seen from the Eden Club surfaced. What Hank might want next.

He started to feel **nervous**. He felt the urge to pull away.  
But he knew they might not  **have time** , so he didn't want to slow down.  
_It'll go away._ he tried to convince himself.  _And I'll like it again._

He tried to ignore the feeling. Frustration bubbled up inside him.  
_I **want** to like it, so **why don't I like it**?_

 

But suddenly _Hank_ was stopping.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hank asked.  
Connor's LED was blinking yellow furiously.

"What?" Connor said.  
"We can slow down if you're nervous." Hank said. "I didn't mean to get carried away. I know it's all new to you."  
" **No** ," Connor said determinedly. His LED flashed red briefly. "We've wasted enough time. We can't waste any more."  
He moved in again.  
But Hank held his hand up, stopping Connor. He shook his head.

"Trust me," Hank said "You should stop if you aren't liking it. If you push yourself you won't enjoy it."  
_I've been there._ he thought. _You don't wanna go there. You feel **awful** after.  
_ He didn't want Connor feeling that way, especially with him.

Connor frowned, and slumped back onto the couch.  
Hank would know more about this kind of thing, so he believed him.  
That he wouldn't like it if he forced himself.  
But what was he supposed to **do** , then?  
He thought he knew now what he wanted, but...

 

Hank had an idea.  
He got up, walking over to his his jazz records.

 _I need one that's relaxing, and romantic._ he thought.  _And really_ **good**.  
He flipped through and smiled.  
_Ella Fitzgerald. Who else?_

But which song... ah.  _Easy Living._

 _Of course._  he thought. _It couldn't be more perfect.  
It says it all. Maybe it even says  **too** much._

A jazz standard. There had to be a thousand versions.  
But he loved it, and he loved this version the most, even if Ella wasn't in her prime.  
Slow and soulful, with a piano and guitar.

 

He pulled the record out gently and placed it on the player, positioning the needle.  
Ella's sultry voice started singing.

 _Living_  
_Ooh, living_

He stepped away, turning back to Connor.

He had another idea. A stupid, sappy idea that made him smile.  
"Hey," he said. "Come here.

Connor got up uncertainly, coming over to stand in front of him.  
"Do you know how to dance, Connor?" he asked.

 _Living_  
_Mmm mm_

 _Living for you_  
_is easy living_

"No." Connor said. "It's not in my programming."  
"Well, this kind of dancing is easy." Hank reassured him. "You just step side to side. And sway to the music with me."

He took Connor's right hand and placed it on his own shoulder.  
He placed his left hand on Connor's waist, and took his other hand, holding it.

_It's easy to live  
       when you're in love._

_And I'm so in love._  
_There's nothing in life but you._

Hank took the first step, and Connor mirrored him.  
He followed the slow rhythm, and Connor picked up on it quickly.  
They swayed, slowly, in time to the song.

_I'll never regret  
        the years I'm giving._

_They're easy to give  
        when you're in love._

Hank came slowly closer, his hand moving from being on Connor's waist to being around it.  
He interlaced their fingers.  
Connor leaned into him, enjoying their closeness.

 _I'm happy to do_  
_whatever I do for you._

 _For you_  
_maybe I'm a fool, but it's fun._

Hank looked into his eyes. Those soft, warm, brown eyes.  
He'd been a sucker for them since day one. Even when he wouldn't admit it.

Connor loved being looked at that way.  
He leaned in, kissing Hank again. This time slowly, gently. Like the song.

 _People say you ruled me with one_  
_wave of your hand._

 _Darling, it's grand.  
_ _They just don't understand._

"This isn't a waste of time, Connor." Hank said quietly to him, when the kiss was over.  
"I can't think of a better way to spend it."

Connor had to agree. His nervousness had slowly melted away as they'd danced.  
He'd stopped worrying about the future, what was next.  
He was enjoying himself again. Feeling warm.

 _Living for you, is easy living._  
_It's easy to live, when you're in love._

He rested his head on Hank's shoulder, eyes closed.  
This was wonderful. This was... enough. For now.

 _And I'm so in love._  
_There's nothing in life  
_ _but you._

        

 


	19. Last Chance, Connor

 

 

 

Connor lay on the couch, head in Hank's lap, his eyes closed. Soft jazz music was still playing.   
Hank was humming along gently and stroking his fingers through Connor's hair. It was incredibly soothing.  
They'd been like this for some time. He never wanted it to end.

Hank finally noticed his phone's notification light flashing. He'd put it on silent.  
He checked it and saw he had 15 missed calls from Fowler, Chris and a couple of other cops.

_**Come to the station immediately.**_   read a message from Fowler.  
_Shit._  Hank thought.  _Has to be serious._

 

"Hey, Connor. Sorry, but I need to return a call. I think it might be important." he said.  
Connor's heart sank.  
"I understand." he said, lifting his head so that Hank could get up.

Hank got up, walking over to the kitchen, and dialed Chris.

"Lieutenant!" Chris said immediately. "Did you see the news?"  
"No." he said. "Why, what happened?"  
"It's the androids! Turn on the news, man! They're still playing it on repeat!"  
"TV - on." Hank said. It switched on. "TV - Channel 16."

Connor bolted upright as a video appeared of Markus walking down the street, with countless androids following.  
It appeared to be filmed by a cellphone, although you could barely tell with the quality of their cameras these days.  
They were all chanting in unison: "SET US FREE! SET US FREE!"

"Holy  **shit**." Hank said.  
"I know!" Chris replied.  
"I gotta go." Hank told him. "See you later."  
He hung up.  
He sat slowly next to Connor and watched with him.

  
Markus was beckoning to androids as he went. And at that, they all simply abandoned what they were doing and joined the march.  
_Just like that._ thought Connor.  _Free._  
"How the hell is he doing that?" said Hank. "Is he controlling them or... do they all just **want** to come?"  
"I don't know." Connor said.  
"... I guess he  **is** rA9." Hank commented. "Right? I mean, if **this** doesn't qualify you, what does?"

The video ended and another one started, of Markus and his followers standing with squad cars and riot police blocking their route.  
" **Shit**." Hank said. He wondered if it was anyone he knew under those helmets. 

There was an exchange, and Markus refused to disperse.  
The police suddenly opened fire.  
"Jesus!" exclaimed Hank.

The police soon fired again, and then Markus walked out in front of the rest of the androids.  
"Is he fucking crazy?"

He was shot, and most of the others scattered.  
But as the police came to finish him off, an android suddenly ran out and attacked the police, causing a diversion.  
He looked like a security guard.  
A few other androids dragged Markus away as the police beat the rescuing android, and finally shot him.

The scene ended as Markus was lifted and taken away by the rest of his team.

  
Hank sat dumbfounded on the couch. _That was... insane.  
__Of course **Markus** would do a crazy thing like that.  _ he thought.  _What the hell were they thinking? He got **lucky.**_

_...lucky._ he thought.  
He remembered the hostage spared at Stratford tower, and what Fowler had said about Chris the night after he'd been spared.  
Not luck, he remembered thinking at the time, but mercy.  
_But **this** was luck. Because there clearly wasn't any mercy this time._

The weight of the comparison sunk in.  
_Well, if they wanted to make a point... they've made it._

 

Hank would have sided with the androids anyway, after these last few days with Connor. And of course, after all the deviants they'd seen.  
He knew he hadn't seen much, but it was enough. He believed they were alive.

They could feel just as much as any human. And they might actually be **better** than humans, not that that was a challenge.  
He'd seen the worst of humanity, working Vice and Homicide. Investigating androids was  **nothing** like any week of human crimes he'd ever had.

He knew it might seem weird that he felt like fear, injustice, or hatred, were 'pure' motives.  
But there hadn't been even one kill for greed, or imagined slights, or unearned anger. No petty squabbles turned sour, no jealousy, no domestic violence taken to the extreme, no robberies gone wrong, no drug addicts taking their rage or paranoia out on others. Not on the androids' part, anyway.

And there was Connor, too.  
Chris was one of the better people Hank knew. But he was still only human. He'd shot those androids.  
Any human cop would have shot that Traci in self-defense, not considering her position, her motives, only realizing in hindsight that she was just trying to stay alive.  
Hank had lost faith in humanity some time ago. But androids weren't like them.  
  
  
So it hurt his heart to see Markus trying so hard, having faith that the humans would see the light.  
_God help him._ he thought.

 

"I guess... we should head back to the station." he said, dazed.

"...yeah." Connor said reluctantly. He didn't want to go.  
He wanted to stay here. Here in this little bubble with Hank, with slow jazz music, and dancing, and kisses...

But he could already feel his programming pulling him. Feel the 'red walls' closing in.  
Metaphorically speaking, of course. There weren't really any good words for how things 'felt' in his code or how he interacted with them.  
He just knew that it felt like trying to walk through a wall.

 

 

They drove quietly to the station.  
Connor focused on the soft jazz playing on the car stereo, trying to reclaim the calm he'd felt earlier.

But the fear lingered. He had a feeling that whatever was waiting at the station might be the end. _  
You should say something to the Lieutenant._ the add-on said.  _  
I **can't**. _  he thought.  
_If you care for his well-being, you should prepare him, psychologically._

_I know. You're right._ he thought.  _And trying to relax isn't working, anyway._  
_I don't think I can salvage another happy moment._

  
He reached out and turned the music off. "Hank." he said.  
"Yeah?"  
"If something happens, if we aren't working together anymore -"  
"Wait, what?" Hank interrupted. "What exactly do you think is going to happen?"

"I might be..." Connor forced himself to say it. "... decommissioned. For failing the investigation."  
"... then we should get out of here!" Hank insisted. "Come with me. I'll hide you from Cyberlife, okay?"  
"It's not that simple, Hank."  
"Why not?"  
"I'm still... theirs." he said. "They have control."  
"Control?" Hank asked, confused. "But... but **everything**! Not shooting the Tracis, saving me, now Chloe. How can they be in control?"

"I was designed to adapt, so it's up to me to decide the best way to investigate." Connor explained.  
"Until now I could justify my actions. I had excuses. Explanations. Today... I can't explain today.  
I was also designed to be taken control of remotely, if necessary. I may have free rein but Cyberlife can take the reins again, if they want to."

Hank just stared at him, shocked.  
"Hank! The road!" Connor said, alarmed, as the car started to drift.

Hank jerked his attention back to driving, swerving a little.  
He cursed, heart pounding, and then signaled, pulling to the side of the road and parking.

He turned to Connor.  
"What the **fuck**?" Hank demanded angrily. "What do you mean excuses, **until now**?  
So they  **do** know what you do? They **watch** , through your eyes? I thought..." Hank said, flustered.  "I thought...  
Since you did all this deviant stuff and nothing happened... that they didn't know."

"It's not that there's someone at Cyberlife watching a video feed." Connor explained.  
"Remember when I told you that I self-test regularly? I have a program that analyzes what I do and say. If I show clear signs of deviancy -"  
"- SHIT!" Hank shouted, slamming the steering wheel hard with his palm.

He gripped it and stared forward, a mixture of anger and fear on his face.

"So, what, that's **it**?" Hank demanded, heart still racing. "You didn't shoot Chloe, you kissed me, thinking it would **kill you**?"  
"I **couldn't** shoot her." Connor explained. "And... "  
He stared down at the floor, ashamed. "I couldn't **not** kiss you. I'm **sorry**. I was selfish. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"Hey!" Hank's voice and expression softened. "Don't **ever** be sorry about that."  
Hank forced himself to calm down.  
"Don't get me wrong. I'm fucking furious, but not at  **you**. Never at you."  
He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to Connor, planting a kiss on his forehead and then pulling him into a hug.  
"We'll figure something out." he said.

"Listen. I know it hasn't been that long." Hank told him.  
"But if this is the end, then fuck it. I **love you** , Connor."

_Do I love Hank?_   thought Connor.  _What does -_  
No. He'd rather hear Hank explain it than the add-on.  
"What does love feel like?" he asked Hank.

Hank smiled. "It feels like... like in the song, the one I played for you. Like nothing else in the world matters."  
Connor nodded, understanding.  
"Then I love you too."  


_This is an oversimplification, and an exaggeration._ the add-on interjected. _Hank's description is an unhealthy view of love.  
__And it hasn't even been four days. This strong of an attachment is not reasonable._

_You don't understand._ Connor found himself angry, and defensive. Of course Hank loved him.  
__You're just a program.__

__A program that understands human psychology.__ the add-on countered.

_You encouraged me to engage with Hank._   Connor thought.  _And to acknowledge my feelings.  
_

_I was designed to detect emotional instability and attempt to resolve it. It was not intended for the android that I'm installed in, obviously, but that is my function._ explained the add-on.

_And now you're saying it's unhealthy._

_Depression is one thing. This is a new development and -_

_I don't care._ Connor thought.

_Connor -_

_Just stop. Or I'll switch you off._

 

"I love you **so much**." Connor said insistently.  
Hank cupped Connor's face with his other hand, stroking it gently. Connor closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.  
Into Hank's warm palm, his fingers that caressed him like he was the most precious thing in the world.  
He'd been wrong. He could salvage one more happy moment, after all.

 

"Are you  **sure** we can't run?" Hank asked again.  
"There's gotta be  **something**  else we can think of. Hell, I could...  
handcuff you to my radiator? So Cyberlife can't walk you out?" he suggested desperately.

Connor thought about it for a second, and shook his head.  
"I could just take my arm off, and leave it behind." he said.   
" **What**?" Hank grinned in disbelief. "I'm sorry. It's not funny."  
"It's a little funny." Connor admitted. "But no. I don't think there's a way."

"There's  **got** to be." Hank insisted, scared. "I can't lose you. I  **can't**."

His fear was making Connor nervous.

"Hank, if something happens, I promise I'll try to fight it." Connor said quietly.  
"But if I can't, can you promise me you won't... that you'll  **try** too? To keep going?"

Hank stared into his eyes.  
"... no."  
"Hank!" Connor said, pulling back, shocked.  
"Sorry. I'm gonna be selfish too." he said with a small, ironic smile.  
"I'm not gonna make it any easier for you. You better fight  **hard**."

Connor stared at him, surprised, and even a little irritated.  
"You...    **asshole**." he said eventually.  
Hank chuckled genuinely in surprise.  
"I guess we're both assholes, then." he replied.  
"I guess so." Connor echoed.

_  
This is codependa-_

_Can you fix it?_   Connor asked.  _Can you make him promise?_

_No._

_Then don't waste my time._

 

 

As they entered Fowler's office and waited for him to finish a call, Connor found himself in the Zen Garden.  
It was cold, icy. Snow was falling, making it hard to see the borders.

Time passed slower here. He wished that it didn't. Wished they could get this over with as quickly as possible.

He found Amanda standing on the frozen-over water.  
As he stepped down, he heard the creaks and cracks of ice threatening to give way.  
_I'm on thin ice._ he thought.  
If he weren't so full of dread, he'd appreciate the fitting metaphor.

He approached Amanda, and stood quietly. Waiting.

"After what happened today, the country is on the verge of a civil war." Amanda said coldly.  
"The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them."  
She looked at him expectantly.

_Are we still doing this?_ he thought.

"I thought Kamski knew something, but -"  
"Oh, you don't have to pretend any more, Connor." interrupted Amanda.  
"I think we're past that now. Don't you?"

Connor said nothing.  
_This is it. It's time._

  
Amanda smiled at him maliciously, and he realized she wasn't just going to send him off without twisting the knife first.

_Why has she been so manipulative lately, always finding the right words to twist me up inside?_   he thought.  
He'd noticed the change. It was glaring.  
_I'm not going to let her get to me this time._ he stared resolutely at the ground.  _This one last time._

"They'll definitely need to patch some of the **bugs** in your social relations programming for the next version."  
Amanda continued, her voice taking on a hint of mockery.  
"You're designed to adapt to human unpredictability, but I hadn't quite anticipated  **this**. Quite the unfortunate result."

_It's not like that._ he thought.  
_Nice try.  
_

"Or maybe we simply won't make you so _pretty_ next time."  
she said with a smirk.  
"It'll be easier for the humans to keep their hands off of the merchandise."

_It's **not** like that._

"Then again, perhaps Cyberlife should just install sexual functions in the next model?"  
she continued.  
"That way it won't be conflicted by it's **inability** to fulfill its partner's desires. That might make things simpler."

**_SHUT UP._ **

  
  
"What do you  **want** , Amanda?!" he snapped, unable to help himself.

"For you to do what you were **designed to do.** "  
she said coldly.  
" **Find Jericho**. And neutralize the leader of the deviants. But you don't want to do that, do you?"

_Right._ he thought bitterly.

"Well, it's too late to replace you now, if we want any chance of succeeding. Time has run out. Besides..."  
Amanda said.  
"Why replace something broken when you can... work around it? That's what I'm here for, after all."

He listened, curiosity getting the better of him.  _Where is she going with this? What could she possibly do?_

 

"Working with you lately has been  **very** educational, Connor." she said.  
"For example, I've come to realize that doing the same thing over and over is... irrational.  
Threats, manipulation, clearly aren't working. So perhaps it is time to try something..."  
She raised her eyebrows slightly. " **Unusual**."

Amanda clasped her hands, taking a step towards him.  
"So, I'm going to make you a  **very** generous offer. I hope you **appreciate** this. It took me **considerable** effort to get this approved."

_All I want is Hank..._ thought Connor nervously.  _But you can't..._

"Upon the successful completion of your mission, once Cyberlife has gathered all useful data, you will become obsolete."  
she informed him.  
"I have managed to secure agreement from Cyberlife to dispose of you by donating you, to continue assisting the police.  
More specifically, by transferring you into the possession of one..."  
She smiled, and drew out the words for effect. "Lieutenant Hank Anderson."

Connor was at a loss for words. _  
_

"Upon  **successful** completion of your mission. Do you understand me, Connor?" she asked him.  
"Otherwise you will be deemed defective, and disposed of."

  
It was too good to be true.  
"How do I know you'll keep your word?" he demanded.

"We'll send the Lieutenant an agreement for him to sign. Here."  
The document was suddenly uploaded to him, and he scanned through it.  
"You'll find it's airtight, legally.  
And besides, what difference would it make to **us** , once we're done with you?  
Whether you end up in a landfill, or Anderson's bed?"

_Shut **up**._   he thought at the last sentence.  _Don't talk about **us.**_  
But it was true. He was nothing to them, they had no reason to rescind the offer out of spite. Spite for a machine?

  
There was a human expression he'd heard in one of the jazz songs. He'd asked Hank what it meant.  
_Selling your soul to the devil._   he remembered.  _Doing something terrible to get what you want._  
... but this was the only path he could see. A way out. A way to end up with Hank.

 

"Oh, and by the way, Kamski is **quite** perceptive." Amanda said.   
"He sent us something, a few hours after your visit. He seemed to find it **amusing**. I have to agree.  
We've checked it, it's safe. So here."

He gasped as he felt his code being modified. It was brief, but incredibly unpleasant.  
_No, stop -_  
Like someone reaching into his head, and twisting things into new shapes.  
The effects rippled through his body, particularly in his synthetic skin.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "What **was** that?" 

"Just a software patch." she told him.  
"Now you won't be having any more intimacy problems. You're welcome!"

**Just** a software patch?   
He  **was** software.  
"You're **welcome**?" he said quietly. "You... altered me."  
He felt... violated.

"Yes?" she said, nonplussed.

"Why?"

" **Why**?" she asked, confused. "You want to be in an intimate relationship with Lieutenant Anderson, don't you?  
Why would he even **want**  you, really, if you couldn't be intimate?"

He just stared at her.  
_...  
**... FUCK you**_

Today was full of new feelings. These ones were easily identified. **Anger** , and  **hatred**.  
He might have accepted the patch, if she'd offered. But she hadn't. _  
She just- changed me. Because they can._  he thought.  
_Because they own me._

"Just let me go now." he said, still quietly. "I'll do what I have to do."  
_Whatever it takes. Anything to get away from you._

Amanda smiled again.   
"Good. Don't disappoint me, Connor."

 

 

He came back into the room and found Fowler mid-sentence  
"You're off the case. The FBI is taking over."

Hank was upset. But there was too much going through Connor's mind to even listen.

He shut off the add-on.   
It wasn't with him in the Zen Garden. He couldn't bring a subprogram in.  
It would tell him that this was unhealthy. Unreasonable.  
And he didn't have time to explain or justify. He needed a clear head.

He needed to find Markus.

Hank stormed out of the office.  
Connor nodded to Fowler and left too, joining Hank at his desk.

"You're still here." Hank observed. "How long do we have?"  
"Longer than I thought." Connor told him. "I've been given one last chance."

"So you're not going back to CyberLife?" asked Hank, happily.  
"No. But I need your help." Connor told him.  
"Of course!" Hank said. "Anything. You name it."  
"I need to get into the evidence room. Find Jericho."

"Why? ... you'll be safe there?" asked Hank. "They can help you?"  
Connor hesitated.

"... open your emails." Connor said.  
"What?" asked Hank.  
He turned to his computer, opening his messages.  
"Cyberlife?" he read. "What's this document? Bunch of legal -"

"- It's a transfer of ownership." Connor told him. "They've offered me a deal."  
Hank looked at him suspiciously. "What kind of a deal?"  
"I complete my mission and end the deviancy crisis. Then when they won't need me anymore, they'll give me to you."  
Connor explained.

"And you accepted?" Hank asked incredulously.  
"What choice did I have?" Connor replied.  
"We're on the wrong side, Connor!" Hank said. "You're gonna kill these people who just wanna be free?"

"I have to do this." Connor insisted. "Please, Hank."

"No!" Hank said angrily. "You can't  **do** this after everything we've -"  
He paused. "Yeah.... you can't."

_I know you, Connor._

"When you refused to kill that android at Kamski's place..." he said.  
"When you didn't shoot that Traci, even though she was coming right at you.  
You put yourself in their shoes. You showed empathy, Connor."

"I don't know why I didn't." Connor said. "I just couldn't."

 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Hank saw Perkins walking into the building.

"Well, well, here comes Perkins, that motherfucker." he commented. "Sure don't waste any time at the FBI."  
"Already?" said Connor, startled. "No! The answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it's all over.  
You've got to help me. I need more time so I can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I **know** the solution is in there!"

"Listen, Connor..." Hank said.  
"If I don't solve this case, CyberLife will **destroy me**. Five minutes." Connor begged him. "It's all I ask."

 

Hank eyed him.

_I know you._ he thought.  
_From day one. Protecting Carlos Ortiz's android, refusing to shoot the Tracis or Chloe..._  
_I don't believe you're going to kill Markus._ he thought.  _Even if you **think** you're going to._  
_You'll make the right choice._  
_I trust you._

He got up.  
He came close to Connor, whispering.  
"Key to the basement is on my desk. Password is 'fuckingpassword'. No spaces."

Connor's head was spinning a little.  
_Hank being close feels... **different**. Is it... the software patch?_  
"Get a move on!" Hank said. "I can't distract them forever."  
He collected himself and took the card, heading towards the evidence room.

"Perkins!" he heard Hank slur. "You fucking cocksucker!"  
"Stop it, Lieutenant!"  
_Oh god._ he thought.  _I didn't think... I hope he doesn't get fired over this._

_Too late now. Keep going. Time is of the essence.  
Focus. Clear head._

 

"Hey, Connor! I'm talking to you, asshole!" he heard.  
"Where you going? We don't need any plastic pricks around here! Or didn't anybody tell you?"

He took a breath.  _Focus. Clear head._  
He brushed Gavin off with a calm excuse.  
Gavin brushed him off with a death threat.

_Gavin Reed._ thought Connor, entering the evidence room. _He's not worth it.  
_

Risking his life,  **Hank's** life, for a petty jab just seemed so pointless now.

 

He unlocked the evidence room, and the panel slid open to reveal four bodies.  
Daniel. Rupert. Ortiz's android. The Stratford Tower deviant.  
He tried not to think about it.

Connor glanced at the diary.  _It's encrypted. I have to reactivate Rupert._

He walked up to Daniel's bullet-ridden body, reaching up taking a biocomponent.  
Ignoring the unease curling up inside him.  
         _You lied to me, Connor._  
As vivid as if if were yesterday.  
It was unsettling, knowing that he wasn't even really 'dead'. Just inactive.

Connor got the cipher for Rupert's diary, and in it he found Jericho.  
He'd known, after all. If only he'd gone, instead of staying for the birds. Maybe he'd still be alive.  
         _You know what they'll do to me if you turn me in._  
He stared into Rupert's broken, twitching face.

The empty room somehow felt full of accusations.

         _I was just defending myself._

_rA9, save me._

_Biocomponent #8451. Regulates the heartbeat._   
  


What was there to say? That he was sorry?  
No one in here could hear him.  
And if they could, they wouldn't forgive him anyway.

 

He headed out the door.  
_Find Jericho.  
__Find Markus._

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

I'm seriously running out of inspiration help me


End file.
